The Time Traveler, Book 4: A Way Home
by Fuzzy-Pamplemousse
Summary: Rebecca is back in the 21st century, and is in labor with her second child. When the child is born, she returns to find that the man who framed Erik for murder 10 years ago is back and with a big chip on his shoulder. Complete!
1. Arrival

A Way Home

Chapter 1 – Arrival

**A/N: Okay, so this is the first chapter of the last book in the Time Traveler series. It's called, as the title indicates, A Way Home. There is some French language in here, so the translations will be at the end of each chapter (if there are any in the chapter. Some may not have any French words, although most likely they will.) Anyways, here it is, sorry to have kept you waiting all this time. I'm considering putting song quotes at the beginning of every chapter from now on, so don't be surprised if you see some.**

-

I watched as Dominique (if that was even her real name) faded from my view, and everything else changed around me. The wind swirled my hair, and I was suddenly struck with another labor pain. I gasped as it stabbed at my belly like a knife. The wind tore at my face, and ripped the tears from my eyes. Then, just as suddenly as it had picked up, the wind stopped, and everything had changed.

It was still the same Paris, but it was different. Now it was modern. I had never thought to see it again, and it felt so strange. A McDonald's was just across the street, and a Burger King was not far away.

I thought I saw a 7/11 sign in the distance, and I suddenly craved a slurpee. The labor pain faded, and I stepped out onto the sidewalk. I stopped the first person to pass me. I asked her (in French) if she could direct me to the nearest hospital. I was a stranger in Paris, and needed medical assistance right away. She eyed me suspiciously.

"Please," I said in French, "I have gone into labor, and I need a doctor." My eyes pleaded with her.

She said something in French that even I couldn't catch, and then walked off. The only word I heard was "faux". It meant false.

I sighed and tried to ask some other people for help. No one believed that I was a pregnant woman, by myself, who had just gone into labor. Something like that apparently didn't happen every day. I despaired of ever getting to a hospital.

I leaned against the wall of the Opera Populaire, letting myself slide to the ground. I covered my face with my hands as a labor pain took hold of me. The tears that I had hoped to prevent came.

I looked up, pleading with God to send someone who could help me. I hadn't felt this alone since before I had first appeared in the past. But it was now the future, and I was someone who couldn't be accepted in my own time. I put a hand to my belly and prayed for someone to help me and my unborn child.

-

Joey smiled and looked up at her husband. This had to be the best honeymoon she'd ever been on. Then again, it was the only honeymoon she'd ever been on, so it was a given that it would be the best. She held David's hand in her own as they walked down the streets of Paris, France.

"Let's visit the Opera Populaire," she suggested.

David turned to face her. "I know that you still believe that she's coming back," he said to his wife. "But you have to give up. Please. You're becoming obsessed with this."

"You mean like how we both are with the story of the Phantom of the Opera?" She asked pointedly.

"Alright," he said with a sigh, not wanting to get into that fight again. "We'll go and take a look."

They were only a few blocks away, and it took them only a few minutes to walk there. Joey let go of David's hand and looked around. She couldn't see anything. The only thing out of the ordinary was a pregnant woman sitting on the ground. Then the woman looked up, and Joey gasped. It was Rebecca. It had to be. Her hair was longer now, and she was (obviously) pregnant, but it was her.

Joey pointed her out to David and the two of them went up to her. This would be a wonderful reunion.

-

I looked up when a shadow fell over me. I pushed myself up against the wall. "Pardonner-moi," I began in French, and then stopped. I couldn't believe my eyes. Joey was standing right in front of me, with AM4 standing a little behind her. I was about to say something, but a labor pain took hold, and I gasped.

"Rebecca, are you alright?" Joey asked, lending me a hand. I nodded and sucked in my breath.

"I – am in labor," I said through clenched teeth.

"Oh my gosh, we have to get you to a hospital," she said, putting her arm around me and beginning to lead me away.

"That would be nice," I replied, and I let her lead me the few blocks to where they kept their rented car. It was when Joey was helping me with my seat belt that she noticed the belt around my upper half.

"Nice accessory," she joked.

"Thanks," I said. "It says made in America, but I know for a fact that it was made in Sweden." We joked like this until AM4 got the car to work, and started driving.

"So, what are you two doing here?" I asked. "Not that I'm complaining," I added.

"We're on our honeymoon," AM4 said. "And call me David."

"Ooh!" I exclaimed teasingly.

"Tell us what happened," Joey said, after a few more minutes had passed. "Why didn't you come back right away?"

"Mostly because you failed to mention the lake," I replied.

"You read the book through half the flight there," David said. "How could you not know about the lake?"

"I didn't think it was literally a lake," I countered. "Besides, I don't know how to swim."

"You could have mentioned that," David replied.

"As I recall, I did, and you said something to the extent of, 'Well, you're going to learn'." I raised an eyebrow at him pointedly.

But before David could reply, I was hit with another labor pain. This time, though, the pain didn't go away. I clutched at my seat, sweat trickling down my forehead. I cried out in pain and gripped the handle of the door. I clutched the seatbelt beside me and screamed.

"Hold one!" Joey cried. "David, step on it!"

"With pleasure," he grimaced at my screams and slammed his foot on the pedal, running three reds and getting a cop car to chase us.

We were stopped before we reached the hospital. David rolled down his window and faced the cop.

" Je veux voire votre registration et permis de conduire, s'il vous plaît," the policeman said.

"Well, see I have no idea what you said," David began, in English.

I shrieked in pain.

"Excuse me, honey," Joey said to David. "I didn't take those French lessons for nothing." She turned to the policeman. "Pardon-moi, monsieur, mais mon ami, Rebecca est en sainte, et nous devons lui amener au l'hôpital." She smiled at him. He raised an eyebrow at her and peered inside the vehicle. When he saw me, his eyes widened in surprise.

I screamed again. Through gritted teeth, I said, "Ce n'est pas quelque chose qui peut attendre."

"Bon, je compris. Venez après moi," the policeman said, and returned to his car. Joey translated for him, and David followed the policeman as he led us to the hospital.

When we reached the hospital, I was rushed into the emergency room. Several hours later, I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. When the doctor put her in my arms, I cried and wished that Erik was there to see his perfect little angel. She had a head of blond curls, and her green eyes stared up at me intently with perfect innocence. She was perfect.

My hair was sticking to my scalp, and I was filthy. But when I held my baby, I felt like this was why I had been put on the planet. It was the same feeling I had felt when Charity had been born.

I smiled faintly at her, and whispered to her the lyrics to a song that had popped into my head. They were very encouraging words. "You're my little girl, you're the one that I created. No one in this world could ever be like you. When you're crying in the night, all you need to do is call me. I'll be there for you, 'cause you're my little girl." I was crying with happiness.

Just then, the door opened, and Joey came in with AM2. I was shocked, but I didn't let it show on my face. I gave the baby to the nurse and she put my little girl in one of those hospital baby beds.

"What are you do here?" I asked, surprised to see AM2 here.

"Joey and David called me as soon as you were checked in, and I took our private plan here right away, on the orders of AM1," he replied. "Where is The Phantom?" He asked. The nurse had left the room, so he spoke freely.

"In Paris," I replied, and my face saddened. "The last I saw, he was wrongly accused of murder, and taken to prison."

"Well, wrongly accused is really not what the word we would use," AM2 replied.

"Do you know something I don't?" I asked, "Oh, wait, that's right, you couldn't, because I was the one who went back in time, not you." I folded my arms across my chest.

"Whose kid is that?" AM2 asked when the baby began crying.

"Whose do you think?" I retorted, and I reached over to pick her up. I cradled her in my arms and saw her bury her head against my breast. She yawned widely. She was obviously tired.

"It's yours?" He asked.

"_She_ is mine," I replied haughtily.

He gaped. "That is so sad," he replied.

"Why?" I asked.

"That you were attacked like that," he shook his head.

I held up my left hand and showed him my wedding ring. "That answer your incorrect assumption?" I asked.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Who's the father?" He asked.

"Erik," I replied matter-of-factly.

This time, he laughed. Wiping a tear from his eye, he said, "No really, who is it?" Then he saw my face. "Oh, you're serious. Seriously?" He asked in disbelief. I nodded. "Who would have thunk?" He asked rhetorically.

The nurse came back in with a baby blanket, and told me that I was well enough to nurse. I made AM2 and David turn around until I covered the baby's head with a blanket. Once she was nursing, I let them turn back around to face me.

"Vous devez nommer votre bébé," the nurse said.

"Oui," I replied. I spoke to my little girl then. "Tu t'appelle, Dominique." I smiled.

**A/N: Okay, there's the first chapter. Now, for the translations:**

**1) "Pardon me." (said by Rebecca)**

**2) "I would like to see your license and registration, please." (said by the policeman)**

**3) "Pardon me, Sir, but my friend, Rebecca, is pregnant, and we have to bring her to the hospital." (said by Joey)**

**4) "It's not something that can wait." (said by Rebecca)**

**5) "Good, I understand. Follow me." (said by the policeman)**

**6) "You have to name your baby." (said by the nurse)**

**7) "Yes. You are called Dominique" (said by Rebecca)**

**Okay, there it is. Review please!**


	2. Discussion

A Way Home

Chapter 2 – Decision

"_We all fall down sometimes/we all let ourselves down/Sometimes there's nothing left/but to live with what's been done/and know you're not the only one who falls/We all fail sometimes/we all let someone down/Sometimes there's nothing left to do/but to promise to ourselves/that next time we won't be the one to fail/I want to tell you, you can go on/that beginnings come from ends/I still believe in you"_

_-We All Fall, Superchick_

-

I peeled my eyes open and sighed. I had been in the hospital for a while now, and I didn't know when I was going to be allowed out. It was agonizing torture just lying there on the bed and not doing anything. Every now and then, when AM2 would come in and ask me what I planned to do when I got out, I would say, "Go home."

He would always answer me, "Well, we can always take you there."

"Not that home," I would say. "Home to Erik."

"You can't go back there anymore," he would say. "You've changed the timeline enough as it is, and you failed in your task to bring him with you. You're not going to get paid if you don't complete the task."

"I don't care."

"You should." And then he would leave.

I felt like I had made a big mistake in coming back to the future. I had very little chance of ever returning to Erik and Charity, whom I loved with all I had. In the meantime, what if he was executed while I was gone? What then? I was so scared that I might return and find him dead. I didn't think I would be able to go on if that happened.

Then, as though he was right there, I heard Erik's voice in my head. _"That would never happen. I love you too much to let that happen. Remember, I am the former Phantom of the Opera."_

I nodded to myself. He was right; neither of us would ever let something like that happen.

Joey walked in as I was reminding myself of this. "Hey," she said.

"Hey," I replied. I leaned my head back. "This is so boring!" I exclaimed.

"We've reached a decision," she said. "AM2 didn't want you to know, but you have right to."

"A right to know what?" I asked, picking at the gunk under my nail. Living without nail care products had done serious damage to them.

"That AM2 is planning on taking Dominique to the past, where she can be with her father and sister."

I looked up at her in horror. "What?" I whispered in terror. He was going to try to take my baby away from me!

"I am telling you this because I have an alternative," she began hurriedly. "I know that you want to return to Erik, but you can't leave while you're in this state."

"Sure I can," I replied, sitting up and throwing the covers off of me.

Joey shoved me back down so that I was lying on my back. "No, you can't," she said. "You and I both know you can't leave until you are discharged from the hospital. I also know that you don't trust AM2 to be truthful. We both know that he is someone who will only help others if it's for his own gain."

"If he goes back in time," I mused aloud, "he might drop off Dominique at Henri's, but then take Erik back with him, the way he wanted to begin with. If he does that, then my girls will be without anyone to take care of them."

"Who is Henri?" Joey asked, interrupting my thoughts.

"He's the one who Erik works for," I replied.

"He works for someone?" Joey asked, totally confused.

Instead of answering her question, though, I asked one of my own. "Where's Dominique?"

"She's in her little plastic bassinet," Joey replied, pointing. "Right beside you. Why?"

I sat up straight. "Give her to me," I ordered.

Joey wordlessly picked up the baby girl and gently handed her to me. I took her in my arms and looked down at her sleeping face. She had such a tiny nose, and such miniscule eyelashes. Her eyelids were closed, and they were so tiny, that I had to kiss them.

I looked up at Joey, who was looking at me expectantly. "You have to make a decision," Joey said. "You can either stay here with Dominique, and somehow fight AM2, and probably the entire Council of Music," she paused for breath, "Or, you can give Dominique to me, and give me directions where to take her. Then, I will take her there myself, and return with the belt in time for you to return home.

I looked down at Dominique's sleeping form. Her tiny, itty-bitty lips were pursed together tightly and, after a moment, she cooed in her sleep and yawned as she woke.

I felt a tear trickle down my cheek. I didn't bother to wipe it away. I looked up at Joey, who was standing in front of me expectantly. For the first time, I realised that she was wearing a very old-fashioned dress, the kind that I wore for the longest time; it was the kind that I had worn when I had returned to the 21st century, before Dominique was born.

"You're all ready, then?" I asked. It was made clear that, although years had passed for me, and months had passed for her, neither of us had changed, and she had already known what my answer would be even before she asked the question.

She nodded. "She's still breast-feeding," I said, looking at the pack that Joey had set down on the chair.

"I've brought bottles," she replied. "The plastic kind that can be re-used, and that aren't as hard to clean as the glass kind you're used to using."

I nodded absent-mindedly. I knew I had to give her directions to Henri's house. After I finished giving her the directions, I decided to give her a piece of advice. "Remember," I said. "When you ask to speak to Henri, be sure to tell him that I sent you. If you don't, he could seriously harm you. He has a lot of power, and would make a terrible enemy. Lucky for me, he is my friend, and Erik's employer."

Joey nodded. "Oh, and give him this," I said, a tear sliding down my cheek as I slipped off my wedding ring. It was a very unique ring, and it meant a lot to me. It was made of silver leaves, linked together, and with tiny diamonds on the end of each. I was important to me, not just because it was a symbol of the eternal vows I had taken to always stay faithful to and love my husband, but also because the man I loved had given it to me as a token of his love for me, and that was very important to me.

"Henri will know that you speak the truth when you show him the ring," I said.

Joey looked at me sadly. She knew what I was giving up to be able to get my daughter back to her father and sister. I swallowed hard and prayed that Henri had been able to find a way to save Erik.

Then, I handed the baby to Joey. I knew that she would take care of my little girl. I just hoped that I would be able to get back home in time to repair the damage that had been done to my family.

Joey took Dominique in her arms, and smiled sadly at me. Then, holding Dominique close, she pressed in the numbers. Gradually, she began to fade, and then she was gone. I just hoped that she would end up in a safe place where she could find her way to Henri's.

-

Joey watched as Rebecca and the rest of the hospital faded from her view, and books took their place. I shocked and frightened young woman with brown skin and black hair was staring at her from across the room.

"Don't be afraid," Joey said, but that was all she could get out before the young woman gave an ear-piercing shriek and fainted, collapsing onto the floor with a soft thud. Joey sighed and stepped over the woman, hoping that she didn't wake up with too bad a headache.

She carried little baby Dominique across town, to where Rebecca had said Henri's mansion would be. There was a crowd gathered around the house, and tall man with brown skin and black hair was speaking to them. Whenever he said something, shouts of protestation were heard throughout the area.

"We know that the monstre is in there!" Someone shouted, and the rest yelled along with him.

"Calm down," the tall man said. "Whether he is or not is not your business. Now return to your homes."

"He probably killed his wife!" A female voice from the crowd shouted. There were calls of agreement. "Why else would she have disappeared?" More shouts of agreement.

"Because she went home to have a baby!" Joey called. Everyone turned to her. "And I bring her baby to be taken care of the owner of this house," she added, and pushed through the crowd. She didn't have to take more than a few steps, though, before the crowd parted, and let her through.

She walked up the steps, and handed the little baby to Henri. "Her name is Dominique," she said.

**A/N: There you go! An update, as promised. I figured out a way to update from my school, so it's all good now! Yay! Review, please.**


	3. Home Away from Home

A Way Home

Chapter 3 – Home Away from Home

"_It's a long way from Miami to LA/ It's a long way from yesterday to where I am today/ It's a long way from my thoughts to what I'll say/ It's a long way from paradise to where I am today/…over and over/ over, take me over/ I've been poison, I've been rain/ I've been fooled again/ I've seen ashes shine like chrome/ Someday I'll see home."_

_- Home, Switchfoot_

-

I buttoned up the last button and stared at myself in the mirror. It felt so strange to be wearing jeans and a T-shirt again. It also felt strange to be wearing a bra again. I felt like I was in another reality. It was so strange. And yet, it was familiar.

It was as though I had been taken from the past at birth, brought into the future, and it was my destiny to return to the past, where I felt the most at home. I still knew the future, and could cope in it, but I was at home in the past.

It was too weird.

I turned when someone knocked on the door. AM2 was standing in the doorway, his face red from anger.

"Where is she?" He demanded.

"Who?" I asked, turning back to the mirror.

"AM4," he replied, his breath coming in short bursts.

"Actually," I said, "her name is Joey. That's the first thing," I turned to him, " the second thing, is that you're not looking for her, are you?" I smiled knowingly. "You're looking for my daughter." I paused. "You won't find her here. She's gone home." I smiled again.

AM2's face turned even more red, and he looked like a zit about to pop. "Why?" Was all he managed to get out before he screamed in rage.

I turned back to the mirror and watched him through the glass. I pretended not to care, though.

"Because I wasn't in any shape to time travel," I replied after he had calmed down a bit, "And because I certainly wasn't going to let you steal her away from me." I turned back to him to see his shocked expression. "Did you really think that I was going to let you take my daughter – the only daughter that I have seen for the past week and a half – into the next century? You and I both know that I don't trust you in the slightest," I said. "And, as if I would actually condone you stealing away into the nineteenth century with my youngest child. Not on your life."

"You don't understand," AM2 shook his head, his teeth clenched in anger.

"You're right," I said, "I don't understand how someone like you, who has had people persecute you because of what you look like, could be so cruel to me, when I was the one who offered to help you." I folded my arms over my chest.

"There was something I needed to do there," AM2 said. "Now you've ruined it."

"You were going to take Erik and bring him here, leaving our two daughters all by themselves, weren't you?" I demanded, taking a step forward. My mother bear instinct was kicking in.

AM2 took a step back and held up his hands. "Calm down," he said, trying to calm me. It was in vain.

"And why should I?" I demanded. "You never gave me any reason to trust you when I met you. In fact" – I held up a finger for emphasis – "as I recall, you even grabbed my hand and nearly ripped it off. So, no, I am not going to calm down. I am going to do the exact opposite, because that is what you deserve."

All my anger at the people who had persecuted me, Erik, and Charity in the past boiled up and over, and I swung my hardest punch at AM2. He ducked, and then ran from the hotel room like hell itself was chasing him.

"Yeah, you better run!" I called out the door. "And don't you dare let me catch you trying to kidnap either of my children again, you hear me!" I shook my fist outside the door, in the hall.

A couple of doors had opened, and a few people were peeking out to see what was the matter. I gave them a death glare, and they closed their doors again.

There was no way I was ever going to let anyone take my children away from me.

-

I sat on the plane and stared out at the clouds. I hadn't been on a plane in so long. Well, technically, I had been on a plane only about eight months earlier. But that wasn't important. What was important was that I was going to see my mother again.

I had been informed by AM2 and David that my father had been killed in a hunting accident a few months after my parents had had my funeral. They had figured I was dead. I guess they thought there was no way I could ever return. Lucky for me the belt had worked perfectly after it was completely dry.

My mother had been devastated by the fact that she had lost both her husband, and her daughter within the span of three months. I needed to see her again, if only to comfort her. So, I was returning to Canada.

-

I stepped off the plane, and into a limo.

"Ooh," I said. "Fancy."

AM2 rolled his eyes, thinking that I wasn't watching.

"What?" I asked as David grinned at me. He had informed me that, if and when I returned to the eighteenth century, I either had to take him with me, or let Joey have the belt so that she could return.

David shook his head. "Nevermind." At least he had learned to not be so uptight.

I sat in the limo and stared out the window, dreaming of Erik; remembering when Charity was born.

_"I love you," he said, and smiled at me._

_We kissed. I loved him so much. I told him so._

_Erik smiled at the sleeping baby that I held in my arms. I held her out to him._

_He shook his head. "I would hurt her," he said._

_"You will be a wonderful father," I told him, "and all the non-deformed men will be jealous." I smiled at him as I teased him._

_He smiled back, and cautiously took Charity from my arms. I showed him again how to hold her, because he had forgotten since Lynaea was no longer a baby._

_"She's so tiny," he whispered to me, careful not to wake her._

_"She looks just like her father," I whispered back, and I kissed him again._

"We're here," AM2 said, jolting me out of my memory.

I stepped out of the limousine and onto the wet sidewalk. It had rained a little, and the grass was coated in a thin layer of water droplets. The flowers in the flower bed were standing up straight, and appeared almost springy. The tiger lilies were almost in bloom. My mother loved tiger lilies. Her rose, though, looked like it was dieing. The lilac bush was flowering, and in full bloom. Some of the buds even looked like they had already died. It was early summer, and, depending on the weather, the lilac bush often bloomed early.

So many memories

I remembered forming the flower box for my mother's tiger lilies with my father. We had put the cement stones for the tiny base there ourselves. When I had entered the house, my whole face had been red from exertion.

Picking flowers from the lilac bush.

So many wonderful memories.

I walked up to the front door.

Opening the porch door, I stepped inside. The porch was humid; it was always humid when it rained. The white lawn chairs stood in their special places, the grime from previous years gardening speckling the plastic surface. There was a small table sitting beside the door, waiting for someone to clean it. It, too, was filthy. It had a lid, so that when you lifted it, there was a small space for someone to put something inside it. It had previously belonged to my mother's grandmother. She had used it to store a record player. Then she gave it to my mother, who had used it for the same purpose. The record player had come with it, and had worked perfectly. Eventually, though, my mom had ripped the crap out of the bottom of it and used it for extra baby supplies when I was a baby.

I lifted the lid and saw that the gardening gloves my mother kept there were still there. It had previously been used in our foyer on the second floor of our house, gathering dust. Then my mother had moved it downstairs and into the porch. Now it held old newspapers and her gardening gloves.

I heard the door creak open, and I turned around. My mother stood in the doorway. She looked older, and more worn out, but she was still my mother.

"Mom," I began, but no more words came out. My mouth closed, and I couldn't speak because of the lump gathering in my throat. I was too caught up in emotion.

"Rebecca?" She breathed my name carefully, as though if she said it out loud, someone would run in and take me away again.

"It's me, mom," I managed to get out before a tear escaped and trickled down my cheek.

"I thought you were dead," she said, still in a whisper. She took two small steps forward. She was still wearing her moccasin slippers that she had bought originally for me, but that I had never used.

Then, she wrapped her arms around me, and I breathed in the scent of her perfume; that comforting tea rose scent that my father had gone to great lengths to buy for her. She was wearing her red bathrobe, and it added to the comforting effect, so that I burst into uncontrollable tears.

I was home, but I was still missing my home. It felt strange, and yet comforting. I didn't know what I was going to do. How could I still be with my mother, and with Erik, Charity, and Dominique?

**A/N: There you go! You asked for it, I posted it! Review, please, and let me know what you think!**


	4. Baby Sister

A Way Home

Chapter 4 – Baby Sister

"_Little sister, don't you cry for me/ Little sister, it's as plain as can be/ Little sister, I'll be fine/ But what about you/ Will you be okay/ Just give me some time/ I'll show you the way/ The way home."_

_- Little Sister, Fuzzy-__Pamplemousse_

-

Joey handed the little baby to Henri, and he took her in his arms. "There, you see?" He demanded to the crowd. "The child is fine, and her mother will return soon."

"Well, until she does, we need to get rid of the monster!" Someone yelled. The crowd cheered in agreement, and surged forward like a tidal wave.

Henri and Joey stepped back in fear. Henri because he wanted to protect the child, and Joey because, for a moment, she thought they were talking about her. But before she could voice this concern, a shot rang out into the air. People scattered, and fell to the ground, almost in one swift motion.

A policeman stood at the edge of the crowd, a pistol in one hand, pointed to the sky. "That's enough!" He thundered. "Everyone who does not live here will leave immediately, or I will start arresting people."

The people in the crowd murmured about how unfair it was, and began to pick their ways home. When there was no one left but Joey, Henri, and Dominique, the policeman, putting away his gun, came up to them.

And who are you?" He demanded of Joey

"My name is Joleen," Joey replied, giving her full name.

"What business do you have here?" He demanded.

"I am a friend of Erik's wife," she replied, "and came here to give the child to Henri to take care of until such time as her mother returns." She folded her arms across her chest challengingly.

Henri put a hand on her shoulder to calm her. "She is welcome in my home," he said pointedly.

After a moment of glancing back and forth between Joey and Henri, the policeman turned and left.

Joey breathed a sigh of relief, and Henri turned to go back inside. He beckoned for Joey to follow. She did, and was quite surprised at that.

"So this is where Rebecca has been living for the past few months," Joey mused aloud.

"Months?" Henri asked, turning to her as they reached the living room. "She has been here for several years."

"Oh," Joey replied, not knowing what to say as she realized that she had just given away Rebecca's secret.

Henri smiled at her. "Relax," he said, "I already know all about it."

"About what?" Joey asked, trying to pretend she had no idea what he was talking about.

"About the time machine," he replied, placing Dominique in a small cradle.

But before Joey could reply, and ask questions, a little girl ran into the room.

"Is mommy home?" She asked eagerly, looking up at Henri adoringly. She had curly black hair and blue eyes. Her skin was quite pale, and it reminded Joey of Erik for some reason.

Henri knelt down so as to be level with the girl. "I'm sorry, honey," he said, "but mommy hasn't come home yet."

The little girl's face fell.

"But this nice lady here brought your baby sister home," he added, and the girl's face lit up at the prospect of someone to play with.

"Can I see? Can I see?" She asked, almost jumping up and down with eagerness.

Henri led the girl to the edge of the cradle, where she peered over and gazed at Dominique in wonder, her mouth forming a little 'o', and her eyes wide. She reached a little, chubby arm into the basket to touch the baby.

"Careful," Henri warned gently. The little girl gently stroked Dominique's cheek.

"She's so small," the girl said in a voice of wonder.

Henri smiled and then turned the little girl to face me. "Charity, this is Mademoiselle Joleen. She is a friend of your mother's."

Charity smiled at Joey and waved timidly. Joey smiled back and crouched down in front of her. "Don't worry," she said, "your mommy will be coming home soon." She smiled even more broadly.

Henri caught her eye and frowned.

Joey had just promised something that she had no control over. She didn't know if Rebecca was even going to be coming back. If Rebecca didn't return, they would have a very disappointed little girl on their hands.

-

I wiped my eyes and smiled at my mother, feeling silly that I was crying, even though I was already a mother myself.

My mother brought me inside and sat me down at the small kitchen table. AM2 and David were invited in as well, – albeit icily – but before AM2 could accept, David stopped him and politely declined.

So I sat down with my mother, and she prepared a pot of coffee. "Actually, mom," I said, "if you wouldn't mind, I would prefer a coke to coffee." I smiled sheepishly. "I've spent about five and a half years without a coke, and I'm practically dying here."

"Five and a half years?" My mom asked, opening the fridge door and pulling out two cans of Coca Cola.

"Yeah," I said. "Didn't the Council tell you?"

"What?" She asked. "Some crazy story that I had to rip out of them about you being sent into the past to retrieve some deformed, masked murderer?"

"Erik is not a murderer," I protested, opening the can of coke with a nail file that was sitting on the table. Then I thought for a moment about that statement. "Well, at least, not anymore," I added.

"You have a lot of explaining to do," my mom said pointedly, holding out her own can of coke to me. I sighed and smiled. Then I handed her the nail file. She took it with a small smile and a sigh, and opened her own can. "Now then," she began after she had had a sip of her coke, "explain to me everything that has happened to you in the last few months."

"Years," I corrected.

"Months, actually," she said.

"Maybe for you, but not for me," I said. "The Council didn't lie to you," I added, taking a deep breath before continuing. "They were telling the truth. I did go into the future to retrieve a deformed man" – I stressed the word 'man' – "and in the process, accidentally got involved in the timeline."

That was when my mother noticed me tapping my fingers on my enlarged belly, which had not completely shrunk after Dominique had been born.

"Gained some weight, did you?" She asked, not making the connection.

I would have held out my left hand, but I had given my wedding ring to Joey to prove to Erik that she was my friend and of good intentions.

"Mom," I said, taking a deep breath, "I'm married."

She nearly choked on her coke.

"What?" She asked after she had stopped coughing.

"I said, I'm married."

She glanced at my left hand. "Where's your wedding ring?" She demanded.

"I gave it to a former member of the Council when she took Dominique into the past to be with her father," I replied. Under normal circumstances, if our roles had been reversed, I would have shit a brick if someone like Charity had disappeared for six months, and then showed up to say, "Hi, mom. I'm married with two kids, but they're in a completely different century, so I have to leave you again and break your heart so I can go be with them." That would have scared the crap out of me. As it was, I was quite surprised that my mother was taking it so well.

"Who's Dominique? My mom asked cautiously.

"My daughter," I replied. "She was the reason I returned to the twenty-first century."

My mom's mouth hung open like a codfish.

"Stop looking at me like that," I said. "I'm an adult now, mom, a wife, and a mother of two. I can take care of myself. Heck, I traveled back in time, for Pete's sake"

"Two?" She asked.

"Oh, yeah, the other one, Charity, she's already in the nineteenth century. She's five, and a beautiful girl with a head of black curls, and blue eyes. She beautiful, and one of the three most precious things to me."

My mother just stared at me for several long moments.

"Say something," I said.

"Who's the father?" She asked quietly. "And please tell me that you're at least married to him."

"I told you I was married, mom," I said. "Of course I'm married to the father. His name is Erik," I said, a little nervous. My mother didn't seem to be making the connection. "He was the one I was supposed to retrieve for the Council," I said.

"The murderer?" My mother asked, her voice high and squeaky.

"He's not a murderer anymore, mom!" I protested. "How many times to I have to say that." I lowered my voice. "I love him, mom," I said.

"You love him, or you're in love with him?" She demanded, knowing that I knew the difference.

I smiled mischievously. "Both," I said, a twinkle in my eye.

My mom sighed. "You'll have to start from the beginning," she said, settling down into her chair while I began to explain everything that had happened since I left for France several months before.

**A/N: Well! There is another chapter, within just a couple of days. Yay! Review, please, and let me know what you think.**


	5. Struggles

A Way Home

Chapter 5 – Struggles

"_One step away/ from where we were/ And one step back/ to nothing/ And we're standing on top/ of hopes and fears/ And we're fighting/ for words now/ Concrete girl/ And we're swimming/ around again, again/ And we're swimming/ around now/ Concrete girl."_

_-Concrete Girl, Switchfoot_

-

"Mom," I said, "I have to go back."

My mother didn't answer me as she continued to make the lasagna. She was making it for me. She had invited our family over for dinner, and didn't seem to understand my dilemma.

"Nonsense," she replied after a long moment. "You're staying right here and forgetting all of this crap about time traveling and that sort of thing. You just put on a little weight is all."

"Mom, you can't pretend like nothing has happened. The Council told you the truth. And if they had it their way, they would go back in time and kill Charity and Dominique."

My mother dropped a spoon into the sink with a clatter.

"You can't possibly be telling the truth, Hon," my mother said. "You're delirious."

"I'm not, mom," I said. "You are if you think that you can keep me here." I crossed my legs. "Besides, if anyone in the family sees me, then they will eventually guess that something is going on when I disappear again, and you have to pay for a second funeral."

My mother stopped what she was doing and leaned over the sink, as though trying hard to control herself.

"You are not my daughter," she said finally. "And you don't have to listen to me."

"What?" I asked, confused.

"You are my sister's child," she said. "When you were very small, your mother was arrested for drugs, alcohol and the suchlike. You were brought here. Shortly after, your mother died. So myself and my husband were given legal custody of you." She turned to look at me. "You were so small; you couldn't remember your real mother anymore. You started calling me your mother, and I didn't have the heart to correct you."

"I'm adopted?" I asked. I had always suspected it, but had never really wanted to believe it.

"I couldn't have children of my own," she said, a tear trickling down her cheek.

Then I realised what she was trying to do.

"Mom," I said, trying to be as gentle as possible, "you can't guilt me into staying. I will leave, whether you can have children or not. Even if you were on your death bed, I would probably leave. I love you very much, mom," I said, "but there is no way in hell that I would abandon my children."

"You would leave me on my death bed?" she asked, turning to me, her voice suddenly cold.

"I would wait until you were gone. Then I would pay my respects, and I would leave the rest to your brother," I said. I knew that it must have sounded cold-hearted, but she had withheld from me my origins, and she wanted to keep me away from my family; she wanted me to pretend that nothing had happened, that I wasn't married, and that Charity, Erik, and Dominique didn't exist.

She looked hurt, but I meant every word I said, and it was important that she knew that, although I loved her very much, my immediate family was more important to me than her. I knew it sounded cruel, but it was the truth, and she needed to know it.

"I love you, mom," I said. "But Erik, Charity, and Dominique are more important to me than you are. I know it sounds mean, but it's the truth. Just like a few years ago you told me that your relationship with Dad was more important to you than your relationship with me. It's the same thing." I turned away a little, trying to be as direct as I could about the situation.

"Besides," I added, "there's more danger in the nineteenth century than there is here." I looked her in they eye, and winced at the hurt there. "I have to protect my family. In the nineteenth century, the law doesn't listen to children. If Erik is arrested again – wrongly so, I might add – then there is no one to take care of our children. They would be put in an orphanage. The conditions there are horrible. I've seen them. I went to take a look there in advance when I was pregnant with Charity, just in case something happened to me and Erik."

My mother said nothing and, after a long moment, I stood. "I'm sorry, mom," I said. "But I have to go now. I can't leave my family. I can't abandon them." I took a deep breath, trying to reconcile with her. "I know it's a hard concept to grasp," I said, "but it's the only way I can explain things to you. I'm sorry."

Then I turned to leave.

"Rebecca."

I turned back around. "Yes, mom?"

"I love you," she said, a tear escaping and rolling down her cheek.

"I love you, too, mom," I said, my throat closing as I choked down my own tears. Then I ran up to her and gave her a fierce hug. "Even if I live the rest of my life in the nineteenth century, I will still love you," I whispered.

She just nodded, and I released her. Wiping a tear from my eye, I grabbed my bag and went outside to wait for the limo to pick me up. When it came, I had composed myself enough so that I could be brave as I left what was left of my old life behind and returned to my new life, in the past.

Staring out the window at the cars passing by, I wondered what Erik was doing right then…

-

He stared out the window at the footsteps of the people passing by. He saw the feet of a small child. _Charity_. He missed his little girl. Where could she be? Henri had been able to convince the judge not to put him to death – probably with the help of a lot of money – and now Erik was wasting away in a jail cell, never to know what had happened to his wife and child. Children. Rebecca would probably have had their second child already.

Rebecca, who had naturally been quite tall, had been a head shorter than Erik, and he had always teased her about her height. He remembered the jokes they would make together.

He remembered that morning, when the police had come…

He had woken up to find Rebecca holding a steaming pot of her terrible porridge over him.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," she had grinned evilly at him.

"Don't you dare," he had growled, and had chased her into the kitchen, where Charity was using charcoal on the walls.

"No, sweetie, not on the walls," Rebecca had said, taking the charcoal from her hands. "On the floor, under your rug, Hon."

Charity had run into her room with the charcoal then, and had left Erik alone with Rebecca.

Rebecca had slopped the porridge into his bowl, handed him a spoon, and then put the pot away.

"How are you feeling?" Erik had asked.

"Oh, I'm alright," she had replied. "Although I could go for a slurpee right about now."

"Remind me what a slurpee is again?" Erik had asked.

"It's a frozen pop drink," she had replied.

"Nevermind," Erik had said, knowing that then she would have to explain again what a pop drink was.

"Wake up, ugly!" Someone rapped a stick against his bars. "Lunch time!" The guard yelled, and then coughed into the food. Erik wrinkled his nose, but took the food, not being completely particular about germs.

Rebecca had explained to him what germs were, and how it was important to stay clean. Charity had never liked it, but she had gone along with it because Erik had said she should. Erik had known for a fact that Charity had idolized her father, and that was why he had never mentioned his past in front of her. He didn't want her to become like him: a murderer, and a thief.

But now he had been accused, arrested, and thrown in jail, for something he hadn't done. Now he couldn't be there for Charity, as well as his and Rebecca's second child whose name he didn't even know. He knew that, although he was overprotective of Rebecca, she could, overall, handle most situations herself. But that was only so long as she was the only one involved. He didn't want to lose his wife and children.

Erik missed his family more than anything in the world. He just wanted to go home.

**A/N: There is the next chapter! Hope you like it! Enjoy!**


	6. Lean On Me

A Way Home

Chapter 6 – Lean On Me

**A/N: The first part is from the POV of Charity, when she's a little girl. She may sound more articulate than expected, but that's because Rebecca teaches her lots of big words to broaden her vocabulary.**

-

"_It hurts when you need me/ And I can't break your fall/ It hurts when you can't see/ And it hurts/And it hurts when you're lonely/ And I'm standing right beside you there/ And it hurt when you told me/ That you'll try this on your own/ Hope you never hurt/ Hope you never cry/ Hope you never lose your way tonight/ Hope you never crumble/ Hope you never fall/ Hope you never throw away it all." – Hurt, Thousand Foot Krutch_

-

I couldn't understand it. Why wasn't she home? She was supposed to come back with my baby sister.

And then that creepy, masked lady left as soon as she had said her goodbyes. Henri made me leave the room right before she left, but I know that I shouldn't have left. I should've stayed. It was so strange. It was like when mommy had gone away with that strange lady, and neither had come back. I don't know what to do.

I'm scared, and I miss mommy and daddy. I want my daddy. Why won't anyone tell me where he is?

-

"Why don't you go ask Maria if she will draw you a bath?" Henri asked Charity. She nodded at him.

"Oui," she murmured, stroking Dominique's cheek one last time before turning and leaving the room. Henri followed her, and closed the door behind her, smiling as he did so, but Joey was sure that the little girl was still standing outside the doorway, looking confused and probably more than a little hurt.

"Poor thing," Joey murmured, feeling sorry for Charity.

"Now, then," Henri began, "why don't you tell me why I should believe you are a friend of Rebecca's?" He sat down and folded his hands over his stomach.

"Well," Joey began, perching at the edge of a seat, "because I have this." And she produced from her dress pocket the ring Rebecca had given her to prove who she was.

"Hmm," Henri muttered to himself, along with something along the lines of an exclamation. "Mon Dieu," he said, "this is her wedding ring. She would not have parted with this easily."

"She wanted me to be able to prove who I am," Joey replied. "Now, where is Erik? I am supposed to show it to him and assure him that she will be coming soon."

Henri's face fell a little. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but Erik is in jail for a crime he didn't commit," he said.

"I see," Joey said, trying to take it in. "Then I must return at once and inform Rebecca, as well as return the ring to her." Henri handed it back to her.

"Very well," Henri said, and made a gesture so as to tell her to go ahead. Smiling a little, because Joey knew he wanted to see the time traveling device in action, she punched in the numbers on the belt, and watched as everything faded away, and became a park.

Good, she had estimated correctly. Lucky for her that her obsession with The Phantom of the Opera had taken her so far as to examine all the places within a hundred miles of the Opera Populaire (since the catacombs beneath it extended quite far).

-

Erik sighed again. He hated the way his life was turning to monotonous. Rebecca had always made it so interesting. They had always been able to joke around with each other, even in times of pain. They both knew what it was like to suffer, and they made a perfect match.

Even if they hadn't ended up as husband and wife, Erik knew that they still would have remained friends, and that was something that was very important to him, and he was sure it was important to Rebecca.

He just wished that he could have said a formal goodbye. That he could have gotten a chance to kiss her on the cheek.

But she would definitely come and visit him. He knew she would, because she loved him, and he loved her. She would never stay away from him for too long. Any day now, she would come. She should be almost done recovering from her pregnancy. Henri had told Erik that she had gone into labor, and that she would be fine.

Erik was sure that she would come. He knew it for a fact. Although, as much as it pained him, he also knew that Charity probably wouldn't come with Rebecca. Neither, he was sure, would their second child, whose name he didn't yet know. He knew that she would come. She would never leave him for very long.

Would she?

-

I sighed. The plane ride back to Paris was long, and boring, and made even more agonizing by the fact that I ached for my family. My family was far away, though. They were so far away that I couldn't call them up on the phone, and tell Erik that I would be home in a few hours, or a few minutes, or however long it took for me to get back on the ground and to a payphone.

I sighed again.

"You want to listen to some music?" David asked, and without waiting for an answer, he put on some Arrogant Worms. It was the song, "Drink With Me". In spite of myself, I smiled.

By the time the song was over, I was laughing and asking David to play it again. He did, and we both sang along together. When it was over, I wiped the tears of mirth from my eyes and thanked him.

"I needed that," I said.

He smiled. "Thought you might," he said.

"You've changed a lot, you know," I commented to him. "Since the last time we met, I mean."

He shrugged. "Joey's fault, not mine," he said, and smiled again.

I smiled back. "Thank you again," I said, and listened quietly as the next Arrogant Worms song, "Jesus' Brother Bob" started to play.

By the time we landed, though, I was feeling down again. So much for feeling okay about the whole thing. But at least I would be able to return home soon. I felt bad about leaving my mom alone and all, but I still felt justified in what I was doing.

I followed David and AM2 to the Notre Dame Cathedral, where we had agreed to meet Joey. AM2 was keeping enough distance between us for a mountain to stand between us. He was obviously still afraid of me.

I smiled a little, thinking of how my mother had told me what her reaction had been when she had found about me being missing. She had gone on a rampage, and had attacked Mr. Johnson. Apparently, he had been scarred for life, and had required therapy. Or so, I heard, from David.

We arrived at the Notre Dame Cathedral on time, and found Joey there looking tired and hungry.

"Where have you been?" She demanded, standing up, and holding out her arms in exasperation.

"We're on time," Rebecca said. "What's the issue?"

"You're not on time!" Joey exclaimed. "I've been here for two days! Two days! With nothing to eat, or drink! I haven't had a bath in longer than that, either!" She sighed in an aggravated way.

"Calm down," David said, and put an arm around her. I saw him grimace a little, and it was true. She was a little smelly. But, still, she had a valid reason to be upset.

I held up a newspaper from a nearby stand. "See this?" I asked, showing it to her. "This says that today is June first, of the year 2007. That was the date we agreed upon." I looked at my watch. "It's three pm, right now. That was the time of day we agreed upon. We're on time. You were early."

"Well," AM2 said, "you can't decide what time of day, or even what day you will appear in the century. You could be trying to go to October third of the year nineteen thirty-two, and end up on September 21st, or even later, or earlier. But you can be guaranteed that it will be in that year."

"So, it's just a matter of luck?" I asked.

He nodded. "That's right," he said. "You'll be lucky if you get there within a few days of the time in which you left. You probably won't." he shrugged. "Just so you know."

"Thanks for that," I said sarcastically. "Too bad you didn't tell me that when you first gave me the belt. I was lucky that time. I may not be this time."

"Are you sure you can be guaranteed the right year?" Joey asked, wanting to make sure.

AM2 nodded. "Yes," he said. "But only so long as no one and nothing tampers with the keypad. If someone or something does while the belt is in the process of turning time, then the person wearing it could end up anywhere."

"Great," I said sarcastically. "Thanks for telling me _now_. You couldn't have told me this sooner?"

"You might have said no, then," he replied matter-of-factly.

Joey removed the belt from around her waist and handed it to me. "Good luck," she said, smiling at me a little.

"Thanks," I said, and I clasped it around my waist. I was already wearing a proper dress for that century.

The others, AM2 and David, were also wearing those kinds of clothes, just in case someone was suspicious of just one of us wearing them. Our excuse would be that we were in a play, and that we were on our break between practices.

"This is it," I said, and I punched in the combination. Then I pressed the button that served as an enter button, and everything began to fad. Lucky for us that we were in a shaded area of the overhanging part of the Cathedral.

But, as I shifted my feet, I slipped a little and clutched at the wall. The belt knocked against the wall, and something shifted in the time stream. I felt something change, and an electric shock ran through me.

I turned my head to look past the column I had fallen against. The whole street was changing from scene to scene, and I couldn't control it. I just prayed that the belt didn't start to shrink while I was wearing it. I scrambled to get it off while trying not to tamper with the mechanism any more than it already had been.

I was terrified that I would never be able to find my family within the time stream. I just had to pray that it would stop at least within a few years of the time that I left.

**A/N: There it is! Please review!**


	7. Can You Hear Me?

A Way Home

Chapter 7 – Can You Hear Me?

"_She is running/ a hundred miles an hour in the wrong direction./ She is trying/ but the canyon's ever widening/ In the depths of her cold heart./ So she sets out on another misadventure just to find/ she's another two years older/ and she's three steps more behind./ Does anybody hear her?/ Can anybody see?/ Or does anybody know she's going down today?/ Under the shadow of our steeple/ with all the lost and lonely people/ Searching for the hope that's tucked away in you and me./ Does anybody hear her?/ Can anybody see?"_

– _Does Anybody Hear Her, Casting Crowns_

-

When the time stream finally halted, I peeked around the side of the column, and saw that I definitely was in the nineteenth century. But now there were more people. Or, at least, it seemed like there was. Perhaps it was just me.

When I picked up a newspaper from a local stand that sat nearby the foot of the steps of the Cathedral, I nearly fainted at the date: _Le mardi 9 septembre, 1890_.

"No!" I said to myself. A few people looked my way, but when nothing interesting happened, they continued on their way.

"Mademoiselle," a small boy said to me. He gestured to the newspaper. "Si vous voulez ca, vous devez me donner deux francs."

"Je m'excuse," I replied, and I handed him back the newspaper. Then I decided that, no matter what happened, I had to find a way back to my family.

The year was 1890! I was in the past ten years after I had left! Charity would be… I counted how old. Fifteen. She would be fifteen, and Dominique would be ten. Dominique was almost a grown woman, and Charity was probably already married! How would I ever find them? There were little things on the walls, and in the scenery everywhere that had changed, so that I kept getting lost.

Unfortunately for me, when I asked a person on the street what happened to the Phantom of the Opera, she told me that he had been thrown in jail – permanently. I nearly "choked on my gum", so to speak, when she told me that. I thought I was going to cry. There was no way that I was going to be able to get him out if he was in jail.

I asked someone else where to find Henri. I didn't know his last name – he had never given it – so I described him to the man. No one could mistake Henri for anyone but who he was because of his white eyes.

He gave me some directions after eyeing my clothes distastefully. I followed them to a tee, and soon found myself completely lost. How was I going to find Erik?

I had only one option left to me: I had to go straight to the jail. There was no other option. I knew, even with the changes in scenery, where to find it, and soon found myself there.

I entered, to find that there was no one there. I sat down on a wooden bench and waited for someone to come. While I did, I began to fill with despair. Would I ever find my family?

A song that I had heard on the radio long ago, before I had ever even thought about the manuscript – which I didn't have anymore – kept running through my head. I couldn't remember who sang it, or what it was called, but it made me want to cry as I kept hearing the same words repeat themselves inside my head…

_Does anybody hear her? Can anybody see?_

_Or does anybody know she's going down today?_

_Under the shadow of our steeple_

_With all the lost and lonely people_

_Searching for the hope that's tucked away in you and me._

_Does anybody hear her? Can anybody see?_

I was searching for something that I felt was hopeless to find. The words, "_Under the shadow of our steeple/ with all the lost and lonely people_" were especially prominent in my heart and mind.

I had been under a steeple when I had parted ways with Erik for the first time. I had been under a steeple when I married Erik. I had been under a steeple once each year for every year that we were married until Charity was born. It was our way of renewing our vows. We would sit in the same pew that we sat when Erik had been chased out of hiding, and we would tell each other how much we loved each other, and the lengths we would go to save each other if it came to that.

I felt so much like a lost person who was waiting to be brought home.

"Is there something I can do for you, Mademoiselle?" A voice asked.

I looked up. I had been lost in my thoughts, and hadn't heard anyone come in.

"Oui, merci," I said. "I am looking for someone who goes by the name of Erik," I said. "He is quite tall, and has black hair. He," – here I paused, because I had made a point of letting Erik know that his deformity was one of the things that made him perfect – "he has a deformity on the right side of his face. Is he here?"

The man in uniform raised an eyebrow. "Nope," he said. "He's not here."

I knew for a fact that my face visibly fell. Without warning, I began to sob uncontrollably. There was only one other option of what could have happened to him. He must be dead. I couldn't bear the thought of losing him, the man I loved so much, and the only man, (relatives aside) who had ever loved me in return. Even when I had been in high school, all the guys had thought I was gross, and didn't want to come near me. Only in my senior year had guys ever paid attention to me, and that was only in friendship. Besides, by then, I felt I was beyond hope, and had given up. It was one of the reasons that I had begun to bury myself in my books, and ignore all my old friends. It was one of the reasons that I had found the manuscript, and in turn, met the Council, who had asked me to go back in time to get Erik.

All that had happened since I had found the manuscript ran through my head. I had gone to the meeting with the Council, been stared at by the revolting Monsieur Richard, nearly drowned and eaten alive, nearly been stabbed to death when I tried to defend Erik against Pierre, gone up against an evil overlord who had created his own religion just to fit his greed, had been through two pregnancies during the time period _before_ they created morphine, and had traveled through time to the extent that I was suffering from stress and time-lag.

I was on an emotional rollercoaster, to say the least.

"Um," the policeman began, no knowing what to do with me, "it's okay. I'm sure he won't come back to haunt you or anyone else."

That made me bawl even louder. I felt sorry for the man, as he had no idea what to do with a babbling and weeping young woman, and was unsure if he should be harsh with me or not. But I couldn't control my emotions. I couldn't stop crying. I just wanted my husband! And I wanted my babies! My girls needed a mother. They had been without one for so long! Ten years! I needed my children! Where could they be?

"Where could they be?" I demanded through my tears. I wasn't actually expecting an answer; I was just venting my pain and frustration and heartache.

"I have no idea where the guy lives, but I know he's got white eyes, if that's what you're after," the policeman said.

I immediately stopped crying and looked up at him. My makeup was smudged all over my face, but I didn't care. "What?" I demanded, standing up and grabbing the man by his shoulders. "Where?" I demanded. "Where did they go?"

"Uh," the policeman said, suddenly afraid of me, "they went to the guy's home, I guess. I don't know where it is, though."

"Do you know anyone who does?" I demanded, pulling quite hard on his collar.

"Mademoiselle," he began, trying to pry my fingers off of his collar, "you have to calm down."

"Not until you tell me," I hissed in a low voice, bringing my face close to his.

"What are you doing?" A voice asked. Both of us turned our heads, and I saw another policeman standing not far away. "Dudley, what the hell is going on in here?" He demanded.

"Constable," Officer Dudley began. "Uh, this woman was here looking for the murderer we had. I told her he wasn't here anymore, and she freaked out. She won't let go of me." He looked quite scared. I still hadn't released his collar from my grip, so it looked like I had gone mad.

Finally, I did release Officer Dudley's collar, when the Constable threatened to arrest me. "Now, what is it you want, Mademoiselle?" He asked.

"I need to find Erik," I said.

"Who is…?" He queried, trying to get more out of me.

"The former Phantom of the Opera," I said, disliking the title as much as Erik did, but knowing that it was probably the only way he would know who I was talking about without me having to repeat the description of him.

"Oh, him," the Constable said, sounding bored. "He's with that white eyed fellow with the money. Why?"

"So he's alive?" I asked, my eyes alight with anticipation.

"Yeah," he said cautiously.

"Oh, thank you!" I exclaimed, and, without warning, I jumped up and hugged him.

"Um, your welcome?" He said, feeling very embarrassed. I knew without looking that Officer Dudley was giving him a look that said the Constable deserved what he was getting.

**A/N: There is the next chapter! Whew! Review, please, and let me know what you think! Here are the translations:**

**1. Tuesday, September 9, 1890**

**2. "If you want that, you have to give me two francs." (the franc was the currency in France back then)**

**3. "Yes, thank you."**


	8. I'm Sorry

A Way Home

Chapter 8 – I'm Sorry

"_I'm sorry that/ I forgot/ I'm sorry that/ I wasn't there/ I'm sorry that/ it had to end this way/ I'm sorry that/ I ran away/ I'm sorry that/ you're all alone/ I'm sorry that/ I forgot your special day/ But someday/ all this may change;/ all this will be rearranged/ But our lives will never be the same/ I'm sorry that/ I missed your spotlight/ I'm sorry that/ the room is empty/ I'm sorry that/ by the end of the day/ it will be too late."_

– _I'm Sorry, Fuzzy-Pamplemousse_

-

I smiled to myself as I sat in the carriage. I knew that I was going to see my family again. For me, it had only been about a week, but for them, it had been ten years. I wondered if Erik would recognize me. I knew that Charity and Dominique wouldn't, but if Erik didn't, then my quest would be hopeless. I doubted that he would have forgotten what I looked like, but I still didn't want to take any chances, so I had worn the same dress I had been wearing when I had left. It was the last dress he had seen me in, so he would be sure to recognize me.

The taxi carriage stopped, and the driver got out. I handed him some money (I had kept some with me from before I had gone back into the future), and then I walked past the fountain. It was a beautiful marble one, and I had persuaded Erik to fix it up so that it could be used again. It was still running, even after ten years had passed without Erik's care.

I gazed around the garden. The garden had been Erik's pride and joy. He had been very proud of it, as he expressed himself through it. He didn't write music much anymore – or, at least, he hadn't before I left – but he and I had sung a little every now and then, to help Charity sleep, and sometimes just to each other. I was always the one who was off-key, but he had said he loved it anyway, because it was from my heart.

I went up the steps and knocked on the door. I heard someone's footsteps, and I smoothed out my dress. I looked a little frumpy, but it couldn't be helped. I was so nervous. What would they say? Who would answer the door? All this was running through my mind as the person's footsteps grew louder.

-

"You get your butt into that tub, or I'm gonna leave this here person at the door and spank your hiney!" Maria threatened menacingly as she approached the front door. Dominique giggled at the empty threat, and she ran off, still in her play dress. She may have been ten years old, but she still was allowed to have some fun.

Maria sighed and rolled her eyes. The child was impossible! She spotted Charity, and stopped her.

"Miss, could you please get your sister into the tub?" She asked.

"Sorry, Maria," Charity said, her face still long and forlorn. The child hadn't been happy once since she had come there. Maria didn't know why, but she was sure it had something to do with the child's parents. "She doesn't listen to me. She's more likely to listen to you, than me."

The doorbell rang, and someone knocked on the door.

"Well, then, you get the door, alright?" Maria said.

"Sure," Charity said, and she moved towards the door. She unlocked it, opened it, and stood there with her mouth hanging open like a codfish.

-

"Dominique?" I asked, shocked that the woman who had helped me into the twenty-first century was here. "What are you doing here."

"Am- am I dreaming?" She stuttered in disbelief.

"No," I said. "I got lost in the time stream, and the machine was damaged, so I couldn't go back to the right time. I came here to find my family. What are you doing here?"

"Charity, who is it?" A voice called from inside. The young woman turned her head towards the voice.

"No one, Maria. Be right there," she called, and then she stepped out onto the steps. "You were supposed to come right back, at the exact time," she said to me.

"Charity?" I asked suddenly. "Your name is Charity?"

She didn't answer me. Instead, she started walking, and I joined her. "When I was small, I was put in an orphanage. I escaped with my sister, and we lived on the streets since then. I had forgotten about my parents. Well, not completely, I hadn't, but enough that I hated the very memory of my father, and mourned my mother." She stopped walking and turned to me. "You have to understand the position I was in," she said. "If there was a terrible event in your life, one that changed your whole life for the worse, wouldn't you want to take a chance to change it, and bring back that person who you lost as a child?" She asked.

"Of course," I said. "But sometimes, when we change the past, we change the future, and make it worse." I was thinking about my mother, my real mother, being a drug addict, and me being left with my aunt and uncle, who I then started to call mother and father.

"Yes," she said, "my name is Charity. And I went back in time to save my mother from dying."

She looked at me for a moment, and then buried her face in her hands. I heard her sobbing, and I knew that she was crying. I put my arms around her and hugged her. I felt a tear trickle down my cheek, and realised that I was crying, too. "Oh, my baby," I whispered. My daughter had been the one to help me to the future. What a revelation.

"I'm so sorry that I wasn't there," I said, thinking of Charity being in the horrible orphanages. How terrible. I could only imagine what she must have gone through. And her sister as well. "I'm so sorry that I couldn't be there for you when you were growing up," I said. I held her at arms length and looked at her. "You're a grown woman now," I said, " and I missed it all. I'm so sorry." I hugged her again.

"Rebecca?" A soft voice asked.

I released Charity from my hug, and turned to see Erik standing not too far away. With a cry I ran to him and buried my face in his chest. My husband. My wonderful husband. I wrapped my arms around his waist and hugged him tight. I would never let him go again.

"It's really you," he whispered in a voice of awe, and he hugged me back. "I can't believe it." He released me and looked down at my face, tilting my chin to look up at him. "Why didn't you come for me?" He asked, and then I realised that he was feeling abandoned.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "But I had no control over the machine."

"I don't understand," he said.

I opened my mouth, and then had an idea. From what Charity had said, she was feeling very much the same way that Erik was. I knew that Erik probably wanted me to tell him what had happened, but just at that moment, I thought that he needed to be with his daughter.

"Come here," I said, beckoning to Charity, who had stayed where she was, shuffling her feet and looking uncomfortable.

She came and stood beside me.

"Why don't you tell your father what happened?" I suggested.

"But it's your story to tell," she protested.

I shook my head. "It's yours," I said, "because you were the one who saved me."

"What?" Erik asked, looking from me to Charity.

"She'll explain it all," I said. "Right now, I have to find my other little one." I turned to leave.  
"You'll probably find her running around in a filthy dress somewhere," Charity called to me, "or, if Maria actually got her to take a bath, you'll find her in her room, in a bathtub."

"Thanks," I said, and I came back to give her a big hug. It felt so weird being a mother of a teenaged daughter, when only what seemed like a few years ago, I was a teenaged daughter. It was all so strange.

I went to the house and knocked on the door again, leaving Charity and Erik alone to talk. Henri opened the door and did exactly the same thing that Charity had done when she had first seen me.

"Rebecca?" He asked in disbelief.

"C'est moi," I said, throwing up my hands with a smile on my face. I was home again, and although I couldn't make up for lost time, I still felt like I belonged. It would just take a while for my children to get used to it again.

Henri led me into the house, and directed me to the room where Dominique was. I entered the room after giving a light rap on the door. Maria looked up from where she was standing with a soft towel, wrapping it around Dominique.

"Hello, Maria," I said, "long time, no see." I smiled lightly.

"Mon Dieu," Maria breathed, and she dropped the towel into the bathwater.

"Maria!" Dominique screamed, and she picked up the sopping towel, covering herself with it before anything could be seen. "Ce n'est pas gentile!" She protested.

"Oh, je m'excuse, ma belle," Maria said, and she quickly fetched another towel. I covered my eyes, as Dominique didn't know who I was, and would be very embarrassed if I were to see her naked. I knew what it was like to be a young girl, whose mother is fussing over her way too much. It had happened to me, so I didn't want to be the one to do it to either of my daughters.

Once Dominique was behind the screen, and Maria was helping her get dressed, I set to work dumping the bathwater. By the time Dominique had finished dressing, the bathwater had been thrown away, and the room was no longer smelly musty and muggy from her bath.

She came out in a simple dress, but it was one that made me smile broadly. I had been the one to make that dress. It wasn't the most stunningly beautiful dress, but it was pretty, and I knew that Maria had probably forced Dominique to wear it. I could tell by the girl's expression that she was not happy.

"Dominque," Maria said, "this is your mother." She smiled at Dominque, who gaped at me, just as Charity and Henri had.

"Charity is going to be so surprised," was all she said. I could tell that she was feeling awkward, as she had never known me. But, still, I had known her, even if it was for only a few days, and I knew that if I spent time with her – and with Charity – I would get to know both of them as well as I would if I had never left.

"Hello, Dominique," I said. I squatted on my legs so as to be able to face her. Her head already went up to my shoulder, and I could tell that she was going to be tall, like her father. She was only ten, and she was only half a head shorter than me. She would definitely be tall like her father. "I love you," I said, knowing that she needed to hear it.

"Forgive me if I don't say the same," she said, "but I never knew you the way Charity did. I find it difficult feeling love for someone who I have never known."

As much as her words pained me, I knew they were true. I thought of what I had said to my mother when I had been in the twenty-first century, albeit briefly. What I had said had hurt her, but it had been the truth.

Still, though, I couldn't help but wonder if this was just a façade.

"Will you forgive me for not being there for you?" I asked. I couldn't help it, but my face was turning red, which meant that I was about to cry. I didn't want Dominique to think I was trying to goad her into giving me a hug.

But she smiled at me, and said, "Of course." Then she gave me a hug anyways. I squeezed her tight. I just hoped I wasn't strangling her.

**A/N: Thinking that it's almost over? Maybe, maybe not… okay, it's definitely not over. There's still more to come, and (not likely, but possibly), another in the series. I'm considering it, but I still don't know for sure. Anyways, please review, and here are the translations:**

**1. "It's me."**

**2. "My God."**

**3. "That's not nice!"**


	9. Clueless

A Way Home

Chapter 9 – Clueless

"_Fiction and reality collide/ Faceless and so busted up inside/ You've been searching; you've been crying out/ Will you be destroyed by all your doubt?/ You decide/ Who will you run to?/ Wrong or right/ There is no reason/ for you to hide/ Only love can change your life/ You decide." – You decide, Fireflight._

-

I smiled and held Dominique on my lap, with Charity on one side, and Erik on the other. Finally, we were together, and we had to sit still in that position while the stupid photographer took our picture. Being in Erik's presence was making him nervous, and he kept fumbling with the film.

"Just take the stupid picture already!" I finally yelled, tired of sitting still for so long. Charity, Dominique and Erik all looked at me. "What?" I asked. "I'm not a patient person when it comes to the fact that I'm losing more time that I could be spending playing with my girls." I was saying this directly to Erik. He raised an eyebrow, but I could tell he was amused. "I apologize for raising my voice, though," I said, smiling, despite the fact that I was supposed to be remorseful.

Charity seemed disgruntled a little, but Dominique smiled at me, and looked happy.

Finally, after much more grumbling on my part, and encouragement on Erik's part (which surprised the photographer, to say the least), the picture was taken, and we paid the man before Henri showed him out the door.

"Finally," I said.

"Aren't you glad you sat through that, now?" Erik asked, his eyes alight with amusement, and a smile on his lips. I kissed him. "Yup," I said.

"You have a weird way of talking," Charity said.

"It comes from being raised in the future," I replied. I didn't feel like a mother to Charity, anymore, when I knew I should have. I felt more like a big sister. A big sister who was also their mother. It was strange, but it couldn't be helped.

"Maman?" Dominique asked, tapping me on the shoulder.

"Yes?" I replied. "Est-ce qu'il y a une problème?"

"No," she said, "I just wanted to know what it's like in the future."

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Dominique," I said.

"Why?" She asked, her eyes overly wide with pretend innocence.

"Very funny," I said, "but I am the master of being innocent, so you can't use the puppy-dog eyes on me." I smiled, and she pouted. "I can't tell you, ma belle, because it could wreck the future."

She frowned. "But wouldn't it actually make the future come true?" She asked.

"I don't think so, no," I replied.

"Why don't we get something to eat?" Erik suggested.

"Sounds good to me," I replied. I took Dominique's hand, and Charity followed us into the kitchen.

-

I watched my family eat, but I couldn't. My mother was already instructing Dominique on how to sit still at the table. They could eat, but I wasn't hungry. Erik caught my eye, and I looked away. He knew that something was bothering me. I had told him what had happened, and how I had gone into the past to send my mother to the future to save her life. I didn't know if he was proud of me, or angry at me. Either way, his gaze unnerved me.

I felt like this adventure I had been on wasn't over yet, and wouldn't be for a while. For some reason that I didn't understand, I needed to be alone. I had been alone for so long, and now that my family was finally together, I wanted to be by myself. Go figure.

I excused myself and said I was tired. I went to my room, then snuck outside into the garden. I needed to find something to occupy my mind, as I couldn't find out what it was that was bothering me.

As I pondered what had happened to me in the past five weeks, I realised that the thing that was bothering me was that no one knew who really killed the man that Erik had been accused of killing. Who was the real killer? And why would the man frame my father? Didn't he know that Erik had children? Or was it that he didn't care?

I needed to figure it out, but I didn't want to involve my family. Dominique was too small, and my mother needed to spend some time with my father, so they could bond some more and stuff like that. I couldn't involve them in my ideas.

All I needed now was a clue as to how to go about searching for the killer. I was sure that he wouldn't suspect me to be the one to search for him, so there was no way that I would be in danger. At least, not at first.

As much as I knew it would worry my family, I had to do this on my own.

"They would only be in danger," I muttered to myself.

"Who would, and what are you planning?"

I whirled around and saw Erik and Rebecca standing in front of me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I thought you were tired," Erik said.

"I was. I came out here to think," I replied. I folded my arms over my chest. "What's your excuse?"

"She's just like you," Erik said to Rebecca.

She smiled. "No," she said, "I'm worse." Then she turned to me. "We came out here to find you, because you seemed like you were upset about something," she told me.

"So you both came?" I asked, still suspicious of them.

"Of course," Rebecca replied. She and Erik looked at each other, and I couldn't help but wonder if they were trying to decide what to tell me, and if anything, how much. "We want to be parents together, not separately," Rebecca said.

"Well, I just need some time alone for the moment," I said, trying to get them to leave so I could come up with a plan.

Rebecca looked at me a moment, and then turned to Erik. "Erik, I'm going to go check on Dominique. I'll be back in a little bit," she said. She gave him a pointed look, and I figured she was giving him some sort of message.

Once she had left, Erik held out his hand, and tried to steer me in a specific direction. "Charity," he began, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what?" I asked, confused.

"For abandoning you when you were five," he said. His face was turning a little red under his mask, which he had reclaimed when we had been released from prison.

"You had no control over it," I said. I walked with him.

"I know that," he said, "but, something told me that you might be feeling like it was all my fault."

"You mean Rebecca?" I asked, forgetting to call her 'Mom'.

"You're supposed to call her, 'Mom'," he corrected me.

I shrugged. "She doesn't feel like my mom," I said. "I thought she would, but that was because my intention was that she would appear the same day she left, and therefore would change everything that had happened."

"Time doesn't work that way," Erik said.

"I know that now," I replied, and we continued on in silence.

"What were you talking about before, when your mother and I came in?" He asked after a long moment had passed.

"Nothing," I said, trying to avoid his question.

"Charity," he said in a warning voice. For some reason, that warning voice made me feel guilty, and I then proceeded to tell him everything that I had been thinking about. "I was just thinking that someone has to find the person who framed you ten years ago and caused all of this stuff. Maybe if we used the time machine, then we could figure out who it was, and then we could –" But Erik cut me off.

"The machine is broken," he said. "There's no way that you could go back," he said. "And if you actually managed to get to the right year, there's no telling if you would be able to get back to our year, and then you would be gone again. I don't want to lose you a second time." He stopped walking and put his hands on my shoulders. I was almost as tall as Rebecca, but that was scrawny compared to him. He was so tall, and I knew that I would take after my mom. The same way that I knew that Dominique would take after him.

"I could find him," I said. "I could find out who he is."

"And how would you do that?" Erik asked. "You don't even have a clue as to who it might be, let alone who it actually is. There's no way you'd be able to find him before he found you, and by then, it would be too late. You'd probably be dead, and you would devastate the rest of us."

I hung my head. As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. But what else was there to do? I couldn't very well leave the guy to try again. Something had to be done.

**A/N: There's the next chapter. Review, please! Here are the translations:**

**1. "Mom?"**

**2. "Is there a problem?"**

**3. "…my dear…"**


	10. Preparations

A Way Home

Chapter 10 – Preparation

"_Hello, good morning, how you do?/ What makes your rising sun so new?/ I could use a fresh beginning too/ All of my regrets are nothing new/ So this is the way that I say I need you/ This is the way that I'm/ Learning to breathe/ I'm learning to crawl/ I'm finding that you and you alone can break my fall/ I'm living again, awake and alive/ I'm dying to breathe in these abundant skies"_

– _Learning to Breathe, Switchfoot_

-

I listened in silence as Erik explained to me what Charity had told him. When he was finished, I sighed. I pulled my knuckle out of my mouth, and wiped it on my dress. Erik didn't seem to notice my habit of sucking on my knuckle in times of deep thought, and worry.

"So," I began, "you're saying that you think we should go after this guy, whoever he is, and bring him to justice?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

Erik nodded.

I shook my head. "I don't know, Erik," I said. "I mean, we're married, and have two beautiful daughters. Whoever the guy was, it's my guess that he was just wanting to get rid of whoever it was that was killed, and you were an easy target to frame. I sincerely doubt that this guy is going to come back and try it again."

Erik was used to the way I talked, so I used my own modern French, instead of the old French that they used in the nineteenth century. I always reverted to my natural way of talking when I was nervous or anxious.

"We have to," Erik said. "There's something you should know."

"What?" I asked, a cold feeling of apprehension seeping into me.

"When I was about to be hung, right before Henri stepped in to save me, – again – I saw someone in the crowd who looked a lot like me. He didn't have a deformity, but he was wearing a black half mask on the right side of his face."

"What?" I asked quietly, narrowing my gaze and staring past Erik's shoulder, thinking. "That bastard."

"Who?" Erik asked.

"Until I know for sure, I don't want to say anything," I said. "I'd rather keep my suspicions to myself." I raised my head to look directly at him. "But if the person who framed you is who I think it is, then he is definitely still here. He's not the kind of person who gives up so easily."

"Do you think it was Pierre?" Erik asked.

"Pierre's dead," I replied. "Remember?"

"I don't recall you telling me that," he said. "When did that happen?"

"When I was taken to Henri's by the police, Pierre was there. The moment I found a moment alone with him, I stabbed him with a butter knife."

"Ouch," Erik said. "I never would have thought that you would have been one to kill someone."

"A part of me thought you were dead," I replied, fiddling with a bow on my dress. "So I wanted Pierre to suffer, because he was the one who had hurt you."

Erik smiled and wrapped his arms around me. "That's sweet," he said, and I smiled back. He was saying it in the kind of voice I had used with Charity when she had been a baby.

But, getting back to the subject at hand. "We have to ask Charity and Dominique for help," I said, hating the fact that I was even suggesting it.

"What?" Erik asked, holding me at arm's length and looking at me to see if I was alright. "We can't. It's too dangerous."

"And it's dangerous if they're not with us," I replied. "Besides, from what I gather, Charity knows the city's backwash areas pretty well. She is the only one who would be able to think of where he might be hiding."

Erik shook his head. "I don't know where you come up with these crazy ideas," he said. "But you're right. She does know those areas pretty well. She would be able to help us. But Dominique stays here."

"She's small, still," I retorted. "She can fit into tight spaces better than any of us." I smiled and poked Erik's flat stomach. "Including you."

"You're right," he said, his face long, and I sobered for his sake.

"I wish I wasn't," I said.

"So do I," he agreed.

"But maybe it's better that they both come along," I added. "That way, they won't feel the need to follow us when we go, because they'll already be with us. Better that they're with us, then behind us, getting captured and all."

"That's true." Erik sighed and I leaned my head on his shoulder.

"Erik?" I asked after a long pause.

"Yes?"

"Do you still find me attractive?"

He turned to me. "What kind of question is that?" He asked. "Of course I do, you know that."

"I know," I said, feeling a little ashamed. "It's just that I don't _feel_ pretty anymore." I felt my face grow a little warm from embarrassment.

Erik tilted my chin so that I was facing him. "You will always be beautiful to me," he said. "Even when you're old and…" he searched his mind for the right word.

"Gnarly?" I suggested, in English.

He smiled. "Sure," he said. He knew the word because I had used it before. "When you're old and gnarly, and your breasts sag down to your knees, you will still be beautiful." He smiled and kissed me gently on the lips.

I smiled as well. "Don't repeat that around the girls," I whispered to him when we broke away. Then I became serious. "And now, we have to call them down so we can explain to them the situation." I turned and called Maria. When she came, I told her to ask Charity and Dominique to come down so Erik and I could speak with them about something. She did, and when the two came down, I smiled. They were both so beautiful. It was shocking, really, because I had never found myself attractive, even if Erik did find me so. I concluded that they got their good looks from Erik's side of the family.

Together, Erik and I explained to both of them what we wanted to do.

"You are, without a doubt, the strangest parents I have ever met," Charity said. "And I have encountered many."

"That's probably because we both know what the dangers are that are involved in this venture," I said. "We know what we're getting ourselves into."

"The question is," Erik said, "do you want to come?"

"Yes," Charity said. "I need to do this."

"I want to come, too!" Dominique said, and she put her hands on her hips indignantly. "How come Charity gets to go and I don't?"

"You do," I replied, smiling a little.

"Oh," she said, dropping her hands to her sides. It seemed that her insistence had either worked, or hadn't been needed in the first place.

Erik and I informed Henri where we would be, and then for the first time in what seemed like a millennium, I put on some pants.

Charity thought it was constricting to be wearing pants, but Dominique thought it made it easier to play. I agreed with neither of them. I liked pants because they allowed you to move around more nimbly.

"You can't fight a bad guy while wearing a dress," I said, and Charity wrinkled her nose with distaste.

"I'd rather not wear pants," she said.

"Didn't you have to wear pants when you were on your own on the streets?" I asked, thinking that that may have been the case.  
She shook her head. "Never would I have even considered it," she replied.

I shrugged. "Well, trust me, when we actually have to run, you will appreciate it," I said. Then I helped Dominique tie her belt. "We may be girls, but we can still wear pants," I said to her. "We can even set a new fashion trend."

"How?" Dominique.

"We can wear pretty sparkly fabric belts with our pants," I said, "and then all the other girls in Paris are going to want a pair." I finished tying her belt in a fancy knot.

"How did you do that?" She asked.

"Practice," I replied, and tied my own belt. I looked up at Charity. "Do you need any help?" I asked.

"No," she said. "I'm fine." She fumbled with her belt and growled in frustration.

"Here," I said, "let me." I came over and knelt in front of her to tie her belt. She let me, but I could tell she felt embarrassed. When I finished I stood up and smiled at her. "There," I said, "now you're just as cool as us."

"Cool?" She asked, confused.

"Nevermind," I replied.

"Are you girls ready?" Erik asked, coming into the room with his hand over his eyes, to give us privacy, presumably.

"We're ready," I said, and he lowered his hand.

"You look great," he smiled at us. "But what's with the belts?"

"They're pretty, don't you think?" I asked, and I gave him a pointed look.

He didn't see it at first. "Well, actually," he began, but then changed direction. "Of course they're pretty. You girls look wonderful."

"Thank you, dear," I smiled and kissed him.

"Eeww!" Dominique exclaimed. "Gross!"

We broke away, and I smiled at her. "That's what mommies and daddies do when they love each other," I said. "They kiss."

"Dominique's right," Charity agreed. "It is gross."

I smiled again and let Erik lead the way out of the house.

**A/N: There's the tenth chapter! Review, please. But no flames, please!**


	11. Accusations Made

A Way Home

Chapter 11 – Accusations Made

"_So open your eyes/ look at the world/ gaze up at the sky/ it's been transformed/ And the stars cry out/ for a release/ from all the hurt/ that their eyes see/ The moon cries/ for all the lost souls/ and clouds all choose/ to loose control/ Angel of music/ where have you gone/ that I can't find you there?/ Angel of music/ hear me calling you/ will you gather all my tears,/ and years of pain/ and hide them all away?/ Angel of music/ be my guide/ and leave me a place/ where I can hide."_

– _Angel, Fuzzy-Pamplemousse_

-

We snuck around the back alleys of Paris, waiting and watching. I had already adjusted to wearing the trousers, which my mother seemed to enjoy calling "pants". I had no idea why she called them that, but she did.

We hid behind a pile of refuse. Rebecca plugged her nose and nearly threw up, but the rest of us didn't mind it. We were used to the smell, especially Dominique and I. we had been living in among that kind of thing for so long that it didn't bother us.

I rolled my eyes when Rebecca plugged her nose and nearly gagged. Spoiled.

I stuck my head forward, and sighed in relief. There was no one there. Good.

I went first, and beckoned to my family to come after me. I knew that, if someone wanted to hide in Paris, they would hide here, in among the refuse piles, and old warehouses. It was where Dominique and I had hidden when we had been orphans, and so we both knew the area well, although I knew it better than she.

Skirting another pile of refuse, I hid behind some empty, old crates, and beckoned to my family.

One by one, they followed me. When we were all hiding behind the crates, Rebecca came near me and asked, her voice high and nasally from plugging her nose, "How can you stand the smell?"

I shrugged. "I'm used to it, I guess," I whispered.

"I am so sorry that you had to go through that kind of stuff," she said.

I put a finger to my lips in a motion for her to be silent. Then I beckoned to Dominique. I began to move my fingers in strange motions that my parents obviously couldn't follow. I had created this form of communication in the hopes that it would make Dominique more silent when heading for the library. That way, no one would notice us. It hadn't worked very well, but her range of vocabulary, and her memory, in the language turned out to be better than mine, and so I was sure she would understand.

After several long moments, she replied back, in the same manner, and I was confused by how fast her hands moved. I stopped her, put my lips to her ear, and whispered, "Just stick your head in the hole to see if there's anyone there. My head won't fit."

I could tell she was biting her tongue to hold back a witty remark, and I smiled at her for encouragement.

"What just went on there?" Rebecca asked in a whisper.

"I was just telling her to stick her head in the hole that's up there" – I pointed to a small opening that was not far above our heads from where we crouched – "and see if there's anyone in the warehouse. If it looks like there's been someone in there, then we go in. If not, then we proceed to the next one." I looked at both of them for confirmation that they had understood what I was trying to do.

They both nodded, and then Dominique stood up and stuck her head into the hole. After a few minutes, she pulled her head out.

With a flurry of hand gestures, I deduced that, although it was very dark, she could tell that the warehouse hadn't looked any different from any of the other ones that we had visited throughout the day.

I glanced at the sky. Shielding my eyes, I could tell that it was late in the day. Probably around three o'clock in the afternoon. We would have to go home soon, and continue it tomorrow. I tightened my belt – which I had changed from the pretty one to a more plain one so as to not be seen as easily – and I explained to Erik and Rebecca what our situation was.

"I think we should just head home now, and continue this tomorrow," Erik said.

"I don't," Rebecca replied, turning to him, and releasing her fingers from pinching her nose, despite the smell. "Just because you think that this guy is done with you doesn't mean that he actually is. What if he kills someone else?"

"You worry too much?" Erik said, sounding too concerned. "I know that you're scared of losing me. I'm scared of losing you and the girls again as well" – it sounded as though he was having difficulty expressing his feelings – "but we can't continue this today. Dominique looks like she's about ready to collapse; we're all dirty and tired. Rebecca, please, let's just go home and continue this another day."

With a sigh, she nodded. Then she held up a finger as Erik made to leave. "Tomorrow," she said, waiting for his confirmation that we would continue this tomorrow.

"Rebecca," Erik said, taking her hands in his, "wait a week. Then, if you still want to go looking for him, we will go."

"S'il vous plait, can we go now?" Dominique interrupted. "My feet hurt, and I'm thirsty."

I smiled. Dominique had never been one to complain, so when she started, you knew that it was time to head home.

"Oui, chéri," Erik replied, and looked at Rebecca for confirmation and agreement.

"Yes," she agreed, and we all snuck away from the warehouse.

Once we were away from the warehouses, and in a more hospitable area of Paris, we were able to walk standing up and not crouching. Many people we passed tried to peer underneath Erik's hood, but Rebecca would just give them a hard stare, and they would sauter off, pretending as though they weren't frightened. Despite my mother's small size, she could be very intimidating.

When we arrived home, I gratefully accepted Maria offer of a bath, as I was grimy, and tired from wearing trousers the whole time we were gone. I didn't care what Rebecca said; dresses were much more comfortable than trousers.

-

Several hours after returning home, we sat down to dinner. I was glad for the reprieve, no matter what I had said earlier. I did want to help find the person who was framing my husband, but Erik was right; we did need a rest. I was tired, even if I had said I wasn't.

Just as I was taking a bite of my meat, the doorbell rang. I stood up to get it, while at the same time, the rest of the family, including Henri, stood. We were all thinking the same thing, I was sure. I just hoped that we were all wrong.

"Erik, you stay here," I said, my eyes pleading with him to listen.

He shook his head. "No," he said. "There's no way that anyone can accuse me of anything because I haven't been alone for a moment since being released. There's no way that I could be accused of doing something that I didn't do this time." He crossed his arms over his chest in a way that told me he wasn't going to stay.

I sighed and dropped my hands to my sides. Feeling frightened, and really, really tired, I went to the door, Erik, Dominique, Charity, and Henri following close behind.

When we reached the door, I peered through the peephole. My breath stopped in my lungs, and I thought I was going to drop dead for a moment. Erik gently took me by the arm and pulled me into a hug. I couldn't stand it. What if they took him away from me again? What if he was placed in a cell again? Or worse, hung? I wouldn't be able to bear it if something happened to Erik. And the girls only just got their father back. How would they take it?

Erik released me when the doorbell rang again. He gently gave me to my Dominique and Charity, who held my hands, knowing without being told, who was on the other side of the door.

Erik opened the door, and received the two policemen with an icy curtesy. "Is there something I can do for you gentlemen?" Erik asked.

"We just received word from some of our men that a body was found dead. A witness said they saw you fleeing the scene. You'll have to come with us."

"You touch one hair on his head, and I will kick your ass so hard, you won't be able to sit down for a month!" I hissed in a menacing tone, coming up to stand in front of Erik.

The policemen took one look at me, and burst out laughed.

Erik put a hand on my shoulder when I balled my hands into a fist, and pulled back my leg for a good kick.

"Cherie, non," he said, and I lowered my hands.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," he said in an icy tone. "But there is no possible way that I could have been fleeing the scene. I have not been alone since I was released. I have always been with someone, and today, I was with my whole family, so there is no possible way that I could have done something like that."

Charity and Dominique came up and nodded, agreeing with what Erik said. They stood on either side of me and took my hands again. Behind us, Erik towered above our heads. His white mask was stark in contrast to his black hair.

"Like we are going to trust the word of three women," scoffed one of them, and he pulled out his handcuffs.

**A/N: There. There's the next chapter. Review, please!**


	12. Determination

A Way Home

Chapter 12 – Determination

"_We're close to the edge/ Times' running faster and faster/ Pray for your life and search for the truth/ A world full of chaos/ Will we ever learn/ Angel of Mercy/ please take my hand"_

– _Walking the Wire, Narnia_

-

"What about my word?" Asked a voice. Henri came forward, with a young man by his side. The man was tall – although, not as tall as Erik – and he had black hair. I glanced over at Charity. The man was cute enough. He had blue eyes that, as I would have said in my time, "a girl could just melt in". Charity glared at the man, and I almost smiled to myself.

"Who is this pretty boy?" One of the policemen asked.

"This is Philippe," Henri said. "I have employed him to watch behind the scenes, and make sure that Erik isn't doing anything wrong." He smiled at me, and I became wary of him. Henri was never one to disbelieve us. "Just for governmental reassurance, of course," he added, and I audibly let out a sigh of relief. "Philippe, tell them what you saw."

"All I saw was the man and his family walking around the warehouse district, looking inside some of them," he said. "They did that all day, and then came home. I have no idea why they were looking in them, but they were."

"There, you see?" I demanded. "Erik hasn't done anything wrong.

"You say you followed them the whole time they were gone? You didn't even see them stop to get something to eat?" One of the policemen asked.

"We brought some food with us, duh," Dominique said snottily.

The policeman glared at her, and looked as though he might strike her, but after a warning look from me, and a challenging one from Charity, he stepped back and composed himself.

"We have our orders," the second policeman said, and he made to grab Erik's arm.

"You want my husband, you have to go through me," I said in a dangerously low voice, stepping in front of Erik, who seemed to be lost in thought about something.

The policemen hesitated, seeing the determination and anger in my eyes. Then they took another step forward.

I thank God every day for the fact that my parents put me through Karate lessons when I was in grade school. Lucky for me I still remembered most of it.

I grabbed the one policeman's arm, and flipped him onto his stomach, chaining his right arm behind his back. "Like I said, if you want my husband, you have to go through me."

Charity came up to me, and I showed her how to hold him down so I could deal with the second policeman, who was standing stock-still, stunned and in shock at what I, a woman, had done. Obviously they had assumed I was an ordinary woman. Or perhaps they thought Erik had married me for my looks (which I think weren't all that special. I wasn't exceptionally attractive, although I certainly wouldn't say I was ugly), and my voice (which sucked then, and still does, by the way), the way he had wanted to marry Christine.

If that had been what they had thought, they were sadly mistaken.

"Now then," I said. "I believe that it's time you made your way back to the police department, and tell your comrades that there was no physical evidence that allowed you to condemn Erik. I think that would save your pride, if you get my drift."

He stared at me in surprise.

"That means that they won't make fun of you for getting beaten up by a woman," I said slowly, pronouncing each word individually, as one might do for someone who is hard of hearing.

After another moment, the policeman nodded, still in shock, but at least hearing what I was saying. I nodded to Charity, and she released the second policeman, who, upon realising that he was no longer held captive, jumped up and glared angrily at both myself and my daughter.

"That's what you get for not listening," Dominique said, hands on hips, acting as if it was the most natural thing in the world for a girl of her age to say to a policeman who, a month ago, would have thrown her in jail if given the chance.

Grumbling and glaring, the two policemen left Erik with a warning, "If we get even the slightest inkling that you are on a rampage again, then we'll hang you in a most brutal fashion."

The second one smiled at Charity's frown of unease, and he lovingly stroked his black metal baton that was resting inside his belt. Charity glanced at the baton, and the policeman smiled again. His partner gave him a warning look. Strangely enough, the policeman who was trying to end the silent argument wasn't the one who had been attacked.

After another moment, the policemen left, causing the whole party to let out a sigh of relief.

Erik sighed along with us, relieved that the horror we had feared would come to pass had left us alone for the moment.

"That was some fighting, mom," Charity said, using the word uncomfortably.

I didn't reply, and instead took Erik's hand and went inside, with Charity, Dominique, Henri, and Philippe following after us.

I knew for a fact that we were all relieved – even Philippe, who barely knew us – that Erik hadn't ended up in handcuffs again. The only question that was left was: since it wasn't Erik who was committing the murders, who was?

-

A man in a black cloak smiled as he gazed at his shadowed reflection in an empty shop window. The shop had been closed for years, so there was no reason for him to be startled that there was no one inside it.

Smiling again at the shadows that covered his face, the man casually strolled in behind the building, melting out of the crowd as easily as he had melted into it. He opened the back door with the only key, and locked it behind him. Being careful not to make a sound, the man weaved in and around the randomly scattered pieces of furniture, to where there was a winding stairwell leading up to a second floor.

Old pieces of furniture leaned up against the four walls of the small room, which was obviously a bedroom. Or, at least, it was at one point. It was now obvious by the cobwebs and spider webs that the room hadn't been used in at least fifty to one hundred years. But, despite the antiqueness of the furniture, it was still sturdy, and in perfect working order.

The man with the black cloak sat down at the dusty table, which looked to have been casually swept free of dust only a day or so ago. He slid two fingers under the table and pressed an invisible piece of wood, causing a small hidden drawer to open. Inside the drawer was nothing more than a few pieces of yellowed, unused paper, and a pen and inkwell.

Reaching a finger from his left hand into the drawer, he hooked his fingernail into a small crevice. Raising his fingernail slightly, he lifted a thin sliver of wood to reveal a second hidden compartment. In this one, at the very back, was what the man was really searching for.

For a moment, he hesitated, waiting; listening for the slightest sound that would reveal a hidden intruder. But nothing happened; all was quiet and in the silence, not even the outside street noises could be heard.

After another moment of hesitation, the man pulled out a small dagger and a shiny, sleek silver belt. He slipped the dagger, with a golden hilt in the shape of a serpent with emerald eyes, into his cloak, securing it on his utility belt before clasping the silver belt onto his waist. Then the man made sure that there was still no one around before he pressed several raised pieces on the front of his shiny new belt.

The wind whistled through the empty room, causing goose bumps to form on the man's arms. He didn't pay attention. He just fixated his mind on the time of year he wanted to arrive.

After what seemed like an eternity, the wind died down, as though it had never been, and everything in the room was changed. The furniture was no longer faded with age, and the room was lit by several lamps.

The man removed the belt and tucked it back into the drawer, making sure that it was hidden safely before casually strolling down the staircase and into a brightly lit store.

"Bon matin, monsieur Eric," said the store clerk, addressing the man by his false name.

The man nodded, but said nothing in reply. Quickly, he exited the shop via the front door, and strolled down the street, his secrets tucked safely inside his cloak, where no one could see them.

He smiled to himself again. He would get what he wanted by force, and he would enjoy every minute of it.

**A/N: There's the 12****th**** chapter. Review, please!**

**1. "Good Morning, Mr. Eric"**


	13. The Stalker

Chapter 13 – The Stalker

"_In this farewell, there's no blood/ there's no alibi/ 'Cause I've drawn regrets/ from the truth/ of a thousand lies/ So let mercy come/ and wash away/ what I've done/…Put to rest/ what you thought of me/ while I clean this slate/ with the hands of uncertainty/ So let mercy come/ and wash away/ what I've done."  
-What I've Done, Linkin Park_

-

I listened carefully as Henri explained to everyone why exactly he had hired Philippe to follow Erik.

"I knew that no one would believe the word of any of us unless there was some outside influence involved in which the person could change their minds," Henri said. "Philippe has worked for several important people in the government, retrieving information that no one else could find."

Philippe said nothing when Henri complemented him.

"I'm just glad you did," I said, taking Erik's hand in mine. "I don't know what I would do if something happened to Erik again. Once was more than enough."

Erik squeezed my fingers. "I never thought I'd see the day where I would be glad that someone was following me and practically stalking me," he added.

"Now you know how it feels," I teased, poking him.

He smiled, but there was a weariness behind the smile that I felt within myself as well. I knew that all of us were tired, and we didn't want to have to search for the culprit for much longer.

"So, we already know that Erik isn't the culprit," Charity said, picking a stray thread from her skirt. "But the real question is, who is?"

"And possibly more importantly, why is he doing this?" Dominique added, surprising us with her insight. She was very intelligent for her age, and I often forgot that. Of course, that obviously had something to do with the fact that I wasn't there for the first ten years of her life.

We all sat there, pondering these two questions, and their possible answers. I knew that I might have the answer, but I didn't want to say anything. I didn't want to frighten everyone – especially Dominique – with the idea that we were up against a man with advanced technology, and the ability to travel through time. The prospect that he might be able to leave a situation if it got too hot for him was not an inviting thought. Especially since his ability to time travel would make it next to impossible to find him.

After a long while, Philippe spoke. "We have to look at this a different way," he said.

"We?" Charity demanded, folding her arms across her chest and raising an eyebrow. "Who said you're a part of this?"

"Charity!" I scolded, surprised at how rude she was. "He has contributed greatly to help us, and he deserves respect. His opinion is valuable, as he is possibly the only one who has had experience with this kind of thing."

I thought I knew the reason for Charity's rudeness, but I didn't want to say anything in front of the rest of the group because that might embarrass Charity, and I still remembered what it was like for me when I was a teenager. Embarrassment was not something that I wanted for either of my daughters, especially not by my hands.

Charity crossed her arms over her chest more fiercely and stared at the wall. She seemed to be pouting, and I remembered what that was like. My mother scolding me for something that didn't make any sense to me whatsoever. I didn't blame her for being mad at me, but I knew that she would get over it. At least, I hoped she would. I didn't know for sure because I wasn't there when she was growing up. I was only there for the first five years of her life.

"What do you suggest?" Erik asked Philippe, pulling my thoughts back to reality.

"I was thinking that we have to look at the situation from a more tactical point of view," he said after a glance in Charity's direction. "That, as well as a scientific viewpoint"

"What does that mean?" Dominique asked, curious.

"It means that we have to examine the evidence that we've been given," Philippe replied. I nodded. I was getting his point. I had lived in the eighteenth century for so long that I had almost forgotten about television shows like CSI: Crime Scene Investigation. "For example," he added, "we know that the man has murdered three people – "

I stopped him. "Three people that we know of," I corrected. "He may have killed others."

All eyes turned to me.

"What do you mean?" Charity asked.

I said nothing for a moment, and pretended to smooth out the wrinkles in my dress.

"You know something that we should," Henri said. It wasn't a question, but a statement, and a valid one at that.

"Nothing that I can say in front of the present company," I replied, motioning with my eyes to Philippe.

"Ah," was all Henri said, glancing at Philippe.

It was obvious that Philippe had gotten the hint, and so he then excused himself, although I could tell he was feeling offended.

Once he had left the room, the rest of its occupants crowded around me, knowing that Philippe might have been eavesdropping anyway.

I explained to them my suspicions.

"AM2?" Erik asked. "Who is that?"

"He was the second in command in the Council of Music, you know the one I mean," I replied. "When Charity brought me back to the future, he was there, and he was quite angry that I hadn't brought you with me. In fact, he had been intending to take Dominique back on his own, without me. The only reason that he didn't was because a good friend of mine" – here I turned to Henri, "you met her already – she was the one who told me about AM2's plan, and then she took Dominique back to the right time, as I was not yet discharged from the hospital."

"Huh?" Dominique asked, confused. "Hospital?"

"Nevermind that, honey," I replied.

"But didn't you tell me that there was only one belt?" Erik asked.

"See, now that's what I had thought, too," I said. "But, apparently, there's more than one. The one I have is broken now, so it can't be used either way. It broke halfway through the time stream. I was lucky I didn't end up in the prehistoric era."

"Still, though," Charity said, "that doesn't answer the question of how we're going to find him."

"That's a question to which I don't have the answer," I replied.

-

The man in the black cloak smiled as he chose his next victim. He didn't' particularly enjoy the idea of killing someone. It was the fact that the death of one more person would complete his mission, and therefore his life-ling dream would be fulfilled. And that prospect made him smile in anticipation.

He touched his face to make sure that the black half mask he wore over the right side of his face was secure. Then, with his whole face in shadow because of his black hood, he chose his next victim and followed her home.

-

I passed several people on my way to the market. It was almost closing time, but we needed food, and I had offered to go. It gave me time to gather my thoughts. I knew that I should have been helping Erik, Charity, Dominique, Henri and Philippe (although, Philippe was a little useless now since he still didn't know – and hopefully would never know – about me being from the future). Helping them find the culprit was the thing I wanted to do most.

But I also needed time to gather my thoughts, and the walk from Henri's house to the market was just long enough to provide for enough time to gather my thoughts.

I was barely able to concentrate on which fruit was the best of the lot. My mind was too occupied.

In the end, I just chose randomly, and decided that, although we needed more than what I had chosen, we could do with this for the moment. We didn't have to have an overflowing pantry.

I would have left the job to Maria, but she was visiting family outside of Paris, and so there wasn't any way that she would have been able to do the job.

As I headed home, I thought I sensed someone following me. I stopped and turned, but there was no one there but the rest of the crowd. Several times during the trip home, I felt like someone was following me, but every time I turned around, there were only the regular people walking past me.

When I arrived at the end of the drive at Henri's, I stopped again, and looked around. A feeling of apprehension snaked up my spine, aiding the sudden gust of wind that came up in making me feel like someone was watching my every move.

After several long moments in which nothing happened, I walked up the driveway and to the front steps.

As I passed the fountain, a leaf blew past my face, startling me and causing me to cry out. I dropped the basket of fruit that I had been holding, and I cursed loudly and violently so that I was sure anyone within a hundred miles could hear my foul language.

"Are you alright?" A voice asked, and I whirled around.

Philippe stood there with his hands in his pockets, his small black goatee making his young face seem older and wiser. I sighed audibly. It must have been Philippe who had been following me. What a relief.

"I'm fine," I said. "You startled me, is all." I bent to pick up the fruit before someone stepped on them.

Philippe helped me, and then, once the fruit was again in the basket, I went inside, and he followed.

-

The man scowled furiously. Now he had to wait until dark before he could commit the act. Why did that man with the black hair have to come out at exactly the moment when he was going to strike? The man in the black cloak sighed and settled down in the bushes.

He didn't mind the waiting. He was used to it. It was the fact that he didn't know how long he would have to wait. If he had an exact time in which he would have to wait, then that was all right. But if the opportune moment could come at any time, he felt agitated.

He couldn't wait to plunge his dagger into the woman's back, finalizing the plan, and completing the orders he had been given by his superior.

He rubbed his hands together. He could hardly wait. He would enjoy this.

**A/N: Review, please!**


	14. Fear and Loathing

A Way Home

Chapter 14 – Fear and Loathing

"_I climbed the stairs/ upon my knees/ penance of glass/ a drop of peace/ Nothing I can do/ can fill this hole;/ can clear this storm/ can give me hope/ This crown of clouds/ I wear alone/ This dust of rain/ stays on and on."_

_-Stop the Rain, Atomic Opera_

-

I lay awake listening to an owl hooting in the dark outside the window. Erik stirred briefly beside me, and then went back to sleep. Carefully, so as not to wake him, I removed Erik's arm from around my waist, and climbed out of bed.

I went over to the window and opened it, sticking my head out and breathing in the fresh night air.

I felt as thought I no longer belonged with my family. At least, no while they lived in the nineteenth century. But there was no way for me to return home, and, either way, I would never leave them behind. And taking them with me would probably result in a disaster. They had been born and raised in this century, and taking them out of it would be like taking a cat, and making it learn how to swim. It might eventually adjust, and then again, it might drown and die.

It wasn't like my children or husband could learn English, either. I had had an advantage when I had come to the nineteenth century. I had already known some French, and so it hadn't taken long for me to learn the rest of it. My children and husband would have no such advantage, even if there was some way that we could actually go to the future.

There was no way that anyone in my family would fit in the twenty-first century. Erik would probably want to get plastic surgery for his face, and then when he found out that it cost a ton of money, he would be crushed. Besides, Erik without his deformity is like a bird without wings. It just doesn't make sense. And Charity would never adjust if she couldn't learn to wear pants.

I glanced over at Erik's sleeping figure. His eyes were closed, but he wasn't fooling me. "I couldn't sleep," I said. "What's your excuse?"

He smiled with his eyes closed, but said nothing.

I came over to his side of the bed and crouched down beside him. I put a hand to his right cheek, which was bare, and stroked the mottled skin.

"Erik?" I asked.

"Hmm?" Came his reply.

"Does it feel strange to you? With me still looking exactly the same as I did when ten years ago, and all?" I asked the question innocently enough, but is seemed to have bothered him.

He caught my hand as it made its way up his cheek, and he opened his eyes. Pushing himself up on his elbows, he tilted my chin up with his hand.

"You know I love you," he said, and I nodded, "and that's all that matters."

I lowered my gaze. I still loved Erik with my whole being. It was just that it felt so strange not having changed at all, and him having changed so much.

He had lots of gray in his hair, and the laugh lines beside his eyes had deepened, making him seem very old.

"What is it that's really bothering you?" He asked, the concern evident in his voice.

For a moment, I said nothing. A tear escaped my eye and gently rolled down my cheek.

"Rebecca?" Erik asked tenderly, brushing the tear away with his forefinger.

I rubbed my cheeks angrily, but it did no good because I had begun to cry and it was taking all of my self-control not to start sobbing.

Once I had gained some control of my emotions, I spoke, "It's just that everything is so different now," I said. "You're different, Charity and Dominique are practically adults. I mean, the whole city seems to have changed overnight, when really it's been ten years." I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. "I no longer feel like I belong here," I said finally. It felt good to get my feelings out in the open, but I was worried as to what Erik might think of them. I didn't know if he had changed that much that he no longer felt sympathy for others.

After an agonizing three minutes, Erik spoke. "I don't know what to say to you that can make that feeling go away," he said, "but I can understand how you feel."

I smiled. For some reason, I felt better. "You always know just what to say, don't you?" I said, smiling at him.

"I try," he said, smiling back at me. Then he kissed me gently on the mouth.

"I love you," I whispered.

"I love you, too," he whispered back.

Just then, a loud thump startled both of us. It was coming from in the hall. My first thought was for Charity and Dominique, wondering if they were all right. I glanced at Erik and saw the same concern on his face.

Together, we crept towards the door, hoping against hope that our suspicions were false, and that there wasn't someone in the house.

In one swift movement, Erik opened the door and jumped into the hall, holding the cord used to tie up the curtains of our bedroom window in his hand, like a lasso.

There was no one there.

We checked the girl's bedrooms, and we checked the other empty rooms on that level, but there was no one there.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I turned and went back into our bedroom – only to be attacked from behind. I heard Erik call my name, and I felt the cold blade of a knife pressed against my throat. I swallowed loudly.

"Let her go," Erik hissed at the stranger.

I could almost hear the smile in the intruder's voice, which sounded hollow and false, as though he were using a device to change the sound of his voice. For a moment, I told myself that it was impossible for him to be using such a device because they didn't have those in this century. Then I reminded myself that the intruder probably wasn't from this century.

"No," he said simply and horribly. "It will be wonderful to finally be able to accomplish what I came here to do. And that can't happen with her here."

I gestured to Erik to forget about me and make sure that the girls were alright. I was surprised that they hadn't woken, but they had obviously inherited my ability to sleep through almost anything. For a moment, I thought I saw a shadow creep past me. But then it was gone.

"And what exactly is it that you came here to do?" Erik asked, his teeth clenched in anger. He was gripping the curtain cord as though it were the intruder's neck. I knew that he wanted to strangle the intruder, but that he wouldn't do it so long as the intruder had his knife against my throat.

"That's none of your business," the intruder replied in his hollow voice.

"But it is mine," another voice said from behind him and, before he had time to react, a loud clanging noise was heard, and the stranger dropped to the floor like a stone, his knife clattering to the floor beside him.

I turned around as soon as his arms released me, and saw Charity standing over the intruder, frying pan in hand, looking menacingly at the man on the floor.

Dominique stood not far away with her hands on her hips. "That's what you get for being a bully," she said angrily to the unconscious man.

With a smile and a half laugh, I pulled Dominique and Charity into a hug.

"My girls are my heroes," I laughed, and I kissed them both, glad that there were safe.

"Mom!" Charity cried out. "You're getting spit on me!"

I released them and smiled. "Sorry," I apologized, knowing what it was like for me when I had been growing up.

Erik came up to me and pulled me into a hug, his limbs feeling weak in my arms. He had been scared for me. He was shaking, and I knew it was from relief and anger at the stranger.

For a moment, in all the excitement, I almost forgot about the man in the middle of my bedroom. Then I almost tripped over him.

"What are we going to do with him?" Charity asked.

Erik smiled mischievously and pulled the second curtain cord off of the curtain. "Do you know anything about knots?" He asked the girls.

A/N: There's chapter 14! Story's almost finished. Review, please, and let me know what you think! 


	15. The Fate of a Murderer

A Way Home

Chapter 15 – The Fate of a Murderer

"_Pawns standing in awe of the game/ of the stage/ You've worked so hard at building an empire/ of secret rooms to display yourself/ and add to your wealth/ The sting of/ Oh, it stings/ When I saw it all come crashing/ I witnessed the sound of a million voices/ Screaming for a public hanging/ So hide yourself, hide, hide yourself for now/ We caught you plotting murder/ and now the Tide is turning/ We'll light our souls, heal our bones/ upon your empire burning."_

_- The Spy Hunter, Project 86_

-

By the time Erik, had woken Henri and Philippe, and gotten them into some proper clothes and into the living room, the intruder had woken and was glaring at me and my daughters with a fierce expression on his face, as though he wanted to kill us all just by looking at us a certain way.

"Never again will you harm anyone in my family," I hissed to him. Then I muttered several curse words under my breath, in English, so that my girls couldn't understand exactly what they were. Still, though, they knew they were not exactly filled with sugar and sweetness.

"What is going on?" Henri asked, following Erik into the living room, with Philippe close behind. Philippe looked as though he hadn't slept very well. Either that, or he needed all the sleep he could get.

"This man tried to kill Rebecca," Charity explained. I was used to her calling me by my first name. In fact, I kind of preferred it. Somehow, it seemed to fit better than, "Mom" ever could.

"I can't believe you guys slept through the whole thing!" Dominique exclaimed, her hands on her hips importantly. I'd noticed of late that she was becoming very much like a teenager, even though she was only ten. I would have to talk to her about her snooty attitude some time soon.

"How did this happen?" Henri asked incredulously.

"Not sure," I said, taking a short breath right before saying it. "Why don't we ask Mr. Mysterious over here what he thinks about the whole thing?" I suggested, jabbing my finger in the intruder's direction.

The intruder's hood had been pulled back long ago, and it was easy to see that he looked so much like Erik that it was scary. Of course, he probably hadn't looked anything like Erik before his deformity. But there was nothing that could be done about that. I could tell the difference between the two easily, but others who didn't know either of them wouldn't be able to.

"Why, the man looks like Erik!" Henri exclaimed. As usual, Philippe didn't say anything, although I figured he was half asleep anyways. Good thing Personal Bodyguard wasn't his profession. Otherwise, he'd be out of a job.

There was only one big difference between Erik and the intruder: Erik was taller. Much, much taller. I couldn't believe that no one had seen through the disguise. But I guess if you had only ever heard a description of Erik, and never actually seen him, then perhaps it would be easy for others to get the two confused. Besides, this intruder had never been in Paris before. At least, not this Paris.

I was the only one who had ever seen AM2 before, so I was the only one who could tell who he was.

I removed AM2's blindfold and planted myself in front of him, my hands crossed over my chest.

"Well?" I demanded. "Are you going to tell us why you tried to kill me, and why you killed those other innocent beings?"

AM2 said nothing.

"Don't pretend like you don't know that I know who you are, AM2," I hissed at him.

Everyone in the room looked at me. I had told everyone, except for Philippe, about AM2, and what kind of person he was.

"I also know why you're here," I added, the pieces fitting together in my head like a puzzle that had had me confused for the last ten years. "Would you like me to tell everyone why I think you're here?" I asked.

For a moment, I thought I saw something like fear flit across his face. But then it was gone, replaced by indifference, and resentment.

"Go ahead," he said. "You know nothing."

"Very well," I replied, clearing my throat as for a long speech. It didn't seem to matter that Philippe was there. "I'll start from the beginning. On June 28th, 2006, you and your Council entreated me to go back in time and recover a certain person for you, whom you wished to lead your Council, and therefore abolish the social norm of what was beautiful. AKA: you wanted me to go back in time and bring Erik back with me because you thought that, since hundreds of young girls in the 21st century practically worship the ground he walks upon, that his being there would create a safe haven for you and your… friends." I sighed deeply, and took another deep breath. "At first, when I didn't return, you figured that I was either dead or lost in the time stream. In fact, the exact opposite was correct."

I wanted to slap that smug look off of AM2's face, and I hated his confidence. Well, that would soon be taken care of.

"When I finally did return," I continued, "I was pregnant, and Erik wasn't with me. You decided that you would take my daughter back into the nineteenth century and bring Erik back with you." My voice was getting louder and louder, and AM2's face was losing its confidence.

"But that plan was foiled when Joey decided she wasn't going to let you take Dominique, and I entrusted her with my child to bring the girl back, as I was not in any condition to do it myself. When she returned without Erik, you were, to say the least, furious that your plan had been foiled. You tried to convince me that your plan was one that would benefit all, but you couldn't fool me for a second. I saw right through your plan, and that's where things went even farther downhill."

I smiled cruelly as AM2's face fell even farther. I may not have been evil, but I was going to enjoy his discomfort as much as I could, because that was the same thing he had done to me.

"After you, Joey and David had seen me off to the nineteenth century, you took the second time machine and went on a killing spree, trying in vain to present yourself with an opportunity to kidnap Erik and take him back with you. Which just for clarification, would never have worked because he is an expert at sneaking," I said. "And now, you have finally been caught, and will pay for your actions dearly. I missed ten years of my life, my husband's life, and my children's lives because of you," I hissed at him. "I missed the first ten years of Dominique's life because you decided you were going to frame my husband, and rip our family apart. My youngest daughter is almost grown, and I never got to see her grow, and it's – all – your – fault." I said the last part sporadically, and through clenched teeth. I was trying very hard – while using all my self-control – not to punch him in the face right then and there.

I was breathing heavily, and I was sure I was going to start hyperventilating soon. Erik put his hand on my shoulder, and the pressure of his touch calmed me, and I took deep, calming breaths.

"So," Charity began hesitantly, "this whole thing started because this guy wanted Erik to go back with him in time?" She shook her head. "I find that hard to believe."

"It just goes to show that obsession is unhealthy," Dominique commented, and everyone turned to look at her. "What?" She asked innocently.

I shook my head and smiled briefly.

"Who told you all that?" AM2 whispered, his voice filled with fear, and sounding hoarse, as though he had just swallowed some rocks.

I didn't deign to answer his question and instead I turned to Philippe, who was standing there, gazing from AM2 to me and back again, his mouth hanging open like a codfish.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

His mouth snapped shut when I spoke. "Fine," he said after a moment. "I just – I never imagined that, well, I didn't think that…" His voice trailed away.

"That what?" Charity asked. "That my mom was from the future?"

For a moment, I thought that Philippe was going to faint upon hearing those exact words spoken. But then he just shrugged it off and said no more.

"You have to keep this a secret, though," Erik said. "You can't tell anyone about Rebecca. If anyone finds out, they'll either have her locked up for insanity, or they'll lock her up and demand that she show them how to go to the future."

"Or something like that," I added.

After a moment, Erik spoke again. "So, exactly what are we going to do with our fine futuristic friend here?" He asked.

"We hand him over to the authorities," Henri said from the window. "What else?"

"I guess I kind of figured that we would, you know, do away with him ourselves," I said, and I immediately regretted my words. "Of course, I would never be able to do that myself," I added, trying to make amends.

"No, listen to her," AM2 said to Dominique, who had looked at me in horror when I had suggested that we kill AM2 ourselves.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

"Do as she says," he continued, speaking only to my daughter.

"Hey!" I exclaimed. "You leave her alone."

He didn't take his eyes off Dominique. "Hey, I'm talking to you!" I yelled, and I slapped him hard, which immediately got his attention.

"I was just going to tell her that you can't properly and honorably do away with someone while they're tied up," he said through gritted teeth.

I realized what he had been trying to do, and I smiled knowingly. I crouched down in front of him. "Do you really think I'm that stupid?" I asked him. I stood up then and turned to leave. "Oh, and for the record, when it comes to people like you, I have no honor." Then I turned away again, and came back to hit him in the face with all my strength. "That's for what you've done to me and my family!" I threw the words in his face, as though they were some kind of weapon.

I turned back to Erik. "Boy, that felt good," I muttered to myself, and Erik kissed my forehead.

"Feel better?" He asked, a smile playing on his lips.

"Much, thanks," I replied, and left the room.

I had enough time to see Charity replace AM2's gag before turning on my heel and going back upstairs to mine and Erik's bedroom to catch an extra hour of sleep before getting up, as the sun had almost completely risen.

**A/N: There's the next chapter! Please review!**


	16. A Sincere Apology

A Way Home

Chapter 16 – A Sincere Apology

"_I felt my heart beating faster I never saw it coming!/ Gavels from gun barrels expose me as far less than what I need to be/ The sentencing will be dealt swiftly...It's too late to mend my treachery.../ Shots ring out as my last milliseconds unwind.../ Time bloats with fresh gun-smoke forcing me to review what I've done with my life/ Too late to change, too soon to die/ Life is still warm on my lips/ What can I expect from all of this?/ I'm trembling at the mighty feet of mercy - guilty; it's true, but no less sorry/ Too late to change, useless to weep for years of sin weighed on scales accurately/ Interrogate, assassinate, take the lead for justice' sake/ Change of heart, repentant faith only count in mercy's wake.../ … I've debauched and deceived, and destroyed families... I've taken all/ Given none, and received judgment from the objective eye of a gun/ I'm guilty, it's true, but remorseful, no less. I'm sorry!/ What becomes of me, but death deserved, received?/ What of a crooked man's desperate plea seeking The Good Judge's mercy?"_

_- Gavels From Gun Barrels, Staple_

-

"That was a good idea you had, Henri," I commented as the police clapped AM2 in irons. His head hung in defeat, the realization finally sinking in.

The whole group was there, my whole family, plus Henri and Philippe. We all knew (except for maybe Dominique) that the only punishment that AM2 deserved was death. We also knew that, although we might not agree with that, me being a strict pacifist in that area and all, it was necessary. He did the crime, and now he had to do the time.

Those thoughts caused me to remember when Erik had been caught, and put on trial. We were lucky he had even been put on trial. Henri had done so much for us, and I knew that we would never be able to repay him. Heck, any time we tried, he would shrug it off and say, "I'm getting old, and have no children to pass my money on to. So, why not use it all up?"

Every time he said that, I wondered why he didn't think of his niece, Lynaea.

I was brought out of my thoughts by Erik asking a question.

"Should we go watch?" He asked.

"I don't think so," I replied. "I don't think it's appropriate for Dominique."

"Hey!" She protested. But before she could say anything more, Henri interrupted.

"We will go and watch the event," he said, sounding as though he didn't agree with his words. "Because, afterwards, we have to meet someone."

"Can't we meet that person now?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No. She is busy at the moment, and if we bother her, it will take longer for us to collect the item she has for us," he replied, and with that, he whistled to his driver, who brought the carriage closer and jumped down, opening the door to the cab of the carriage. He handed me and the girls in and tipped his hat to Erik, Henri, and Philippe.

Even with only three of us in the carriage, it was tight. When Erik, Henri and Philippe entered, it was even more crowded. We had to sit three on each side, with Dominique crushed in between myself and Charity, and Erik, being the slightest, crushed between Henri and Philippe.

I knew that I wasn't going to let Dominique see the actually hanging. I planned on covering her eyes, so that she missed the actual act, as I knew that it would be too gruesome for someone of her age. After all, she was only ten years old.

We arrived at the place where AM2 would be hanged soon after he did. Already, a crowd was growing, and we had to push through to the front. I knew from history classes when I was in the 21st century that the hangman's noose was a step up from what they had used in Marie Antoinette's time. I was glad that they still weren't using Mme. La Guillotine at the Place de la Concord. It would have given me bad dreams, I figured. I probably would have imagined Marie Antoinette walking to her death, with her children close behind.

I shivered at the thought, and I wrapped my arm around Dominique, who had been older than Marie Antoinette's children when they were beheaded by the Guillotine.

I knew that AM2 deserved what he was getting, but I still didn't like the idea of anyone being "hung by the neck until dead". On the other hand, AM2 needed to know the consequences of his actions.

He also needed to know something else.

Letting go of Erik's hand, and unwrapping my arm from around Dominique, I headed for the steps to the hangman's noose, wanting to speak briefly with AM2.

The policeman standing there stopped me and told me I couldn't go on.

"I would like to say a few last words to him," I said.

The man raised an eyebrow, but then nodded and let me pass. "Don't take too long," he said. "You only have a few minutes."

I nodded, and climbed the steps to stand in front of AM2. When he looked up at me, I saw bags under his eyes that hadn't been there last night. He had a bleak expression on his face, and his facial features were filled with despair.

"Maintenant, c'est fini," I said, and then reverted to English. "Never again will you hurt me or my family. Never again." I paused, then added, in French, "Jamais encore."

"S'il vous plait," he whispered back, and raised his head to look me in the eye. He had a pained expression in his eyes, as though even speaking hurt. His lip was cut from when I had punched him the previous night. He changed from French to English, as I had. "Please, don't let them kill me for what I am," he begged.

I sighed. "You're not being hung for who you are," I said, stressing the word, 'who', "but for what you've done."

"But I was just trying to make life easier for others like me," he whispered. "Je regret tout." He hung his head again.

"There's no reason for me to forgive you," I said, and I glanced down at my hands. I could see that he was sincere in his apology. "But I do forgive you," I added. "I know why you did it, and I can understand why. But that doesn't make it right. No matter how sorry you are, you have to face the consequences." I moved to leave, then, as an afterthought, I turned back to him and said, "Puis Dieu donnera clémence à votre âme." Then I turned to go.

"Attende," AM2 called softly, his voice pained.

I turned to face him again. "What?" I asked in English.

"Maybe there's a way I can make amends," he said, also in English.

"How?" I asked.

"Go to the Opera Populaire and ask the owner for directions to the shop of Danton le tailleur. Ask to speak to Danton, and tell him that" – here he lowered his voice, as if everyone watching could understand what he was saying, even though they didn't know a word of English – "Eric sent you."

I stiffened. No wonder people had thought that AM2 was Erik. He had been using the same name.

"Tell him, too, that Eric wants you to have the object. He will give it to you," AM2 continued.

"What's the object?" I asked, making a mental note of his instructions. I knew what he had done to my family, but I also knew that he was sincerely sorry. I had to check it out, just in case.

"Just ask for the object, and he will give it to you," AM2 replied evasively.

"But what is it?" I repeated.

"It's something that could alter all that has happened since you found the manuscript," he replied, still not completely answering my question.

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, searching his face for anything like deception. I couldn't find any. I decided to trust him, just this once. I had an idea of what the object was, but I didn't want to say anything until I actually had it in my hands.

"Alright," I said, and then climbed back down the stairs and returned to Erik's side. He tried to ask me what AM2 and I had been talking about, but I shushed him with the promise that I would tell it to him later. Now was not the time.

I covered Dominique's eyes as the priest was reading AM2 his last rites. She pulled my hand away just in time to see AM2's body fall as the ground caved in beneath him. She immediately grabbed my hand and covered her eyes again with it, not even peeking until the crowd was dispersing, and AM2's lifeless body was being taken down.

I shuddered at the limpness of his body, and was glad that I wasn't the one having to touch it.

We all turned away then from the scene and climbed back into the carriage. Dominique didn't let go of my hand until the place of AM2's demise was out of sight.

"Are you going to tell us where we're going now?" I asked Henri after several minutes of silence.

"No," he replied bluntly.

"Okay," I said, a little confused.

"You will find out soon enough," he added, and I felt like I was sixteen again, with my mother making up a rule that said she wasn't going to tell me what her idea was because she didn't feel like it.

I sighed. Sometimes, grownups could be so frustrating.

A/N: Here are the translations:

**1. "Now, it's finished." (Rebecca)**

**2. "Never again." (Rebecca)**

**3. "Please" (AM2)**

**4. "I regret everything." (AM2)**

**5. "May God have mercy on your soul." (Rebecca)**

**6. "Wait." (AM2)**

Review, please, and let me know what you think! Constructive criticism is welcome, but no flames, please.


	17. The Manuscript

A Way Home

Chapter 17 – The Manuscript

"The days come back and I am silent/ to the memories of my mind/ Colored panels on the windows of remembering/ grasping faintly at the shadows that mean everything/ Stained glass mirrors, dark and shattered/ Simple eloquence and elements are offering/ to the altar of my alter ego's empathy in this prison of nostalgia/ Wiping mud away from eyes that only I can see/ staring straight into the brilliance of reality/ present minded, plain and simple"

_- Nostalgia, Greenwood_

-

When we stepped out of the carriage, I was surprised to see that we weren't back at home at all. It was a short building, but wide, and I could see that it was probably also a very old building.

"Where are we?" I asked, confused.

"The library!" Dominique exclaimed, and she ran past me to the front door with Charity right behind her. Together, they pushed open the library door and went in.

I climbed up the old stone steps with Erik close behind, followed by Henri and Philippe. When I opened the door, the first thing I noticed was the smell of old books. Since I had been ten years old, I had loved the smell of old books. I hadn't been much of a reader at the time, but the smell of the yellowed pages of old books always made me smile, and apparently still did. When I walked into the library, I was smiling a little, because the smell brought back memories of reading old and musty books borrowed from my mom's friend. They had been mystery books, much like the Nancy Drew books. I think they were called the Trixie Belden books, or something like that.

I gazed around the room, wondering how the ceiling could look so far up when the building was so small. Shelves crowded every wall, and they reached all the way up to the ceiling, with more shelves in the middle of the room. On one wall was a display case with the most incredible books on display. They had pictures in them that had been done using the ancient art of illumination, which was basically painting pictures with a very fine brush.

I put a hand gently on the glass that separated the pictures from me. "They're beautiful," I whispered, my breath fogging up the glass.

"Aren't they?" A female voice said from behind me, and I turned to see a young woman with brown skin and black hair smiling at me. She pushed her bottle-bottom glasses up onto her nose.

"Do I know you?" I asked, feeling as though her face was somewhat familiar.

The woman smiled at me. "Don't you recognize me, Rebecca?" She asked, her voice melodious and sweet, but in a good way. It wasn't syrupy sweet like some people's voices could be.

I paused for a moment, trying to recall where I might have seen her. Then it hit me. "Lynaea!" I exclaimed, and I embraced her.

"Actually, it Gabriella now," she corrected, laughing a little.

I looked at her with a confused expression on my face. "What?" I asked, puzzled.

She laughed again. "It's a long story," she said. "Maybe another time." Then she changed the subject. "So where exactly have you been?" She asked. "You look exactly the same as the last time I saw you, if I'm remembering correctly. Well," – here she lowered her voice and smiled in a bit of a conspiratorial way – "except for a little weight loss." She smiled.Then she repeated her earlier question. "Where have you been?"

"Long story," I replied, evading the question because I didn't want to get into it just then.

"I'd love to hear it sometime," she said.

Henri stepped in before I could answer. "Gabriella, dear," he began, "you had something for us. Hm?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, yes!" She exclaimed, and she hurried across the room to where there sat a counter.

Gabriella went behind the counter and bent down, retrieving something from underneath it. When she came back up she was holding a bundle of papers wrapped in black leather. They seemed somewhat familiar. She set them on the countertop and slid them over to Erik, who had followed me to the counter.

"What is it?" I asked Erik as he picked it up.

"I don't believe it," he murmured. "This is my original Don Juan Triumphant musical score. I thought it was lost somewhere at Henri's house."

A faint memory, one I couldn't quite catch hold of, started to rise in my mind.

"I know," I heard Henri say. "When I finally realized that you weren't going to be coming home for a while, I had a friend drop it off with your daughters. When Charity went missing, Dominique left it here with Gabriella."

"But, we left the orphanage a long time ago," I heard Charity reply. "How did you find us?"

"That was me, actually," Philippe said, speaking up for the first time in a long time. "M. Henri asked me to keep an eye on you two so you wouldn't get hurt."

"You couldn't have prevented me from getting arrested?" Charity asked.

"I wasn't supposed to prevent you from getting arrested," he replied. "Just from any serious injury."

"Can I see that?" I asked, and Erik handed the manuscript to me.

I examined the front cover and saw that, in the top right-hand corner of the cover were the initials, _A.O.M._ I opened the front cover and saw the message on the inside that I had expected to see, the one that I remembered Erik writing there, so he could give it to Charity when she was older, as she already as a child had had the talent for music:

_**To my Darling Daughter, with all the love my heart contains, Daddy.**_

The blood was rushing in my ears, and Erik's voice sounded very far away.

"Rebecca?" Erik asked. I could see the concern on his face when he looked at me, but his words were muffled, as though by water. "Rebecca?"

My mind began to wander to a memory of mine from the distant future… one that I had already experienced, and would experience… one that was in another time and place… my high school, when I was just eighteen…

… As I reminisced about the good old days, before I had to worry about graduation, I chose a third book. I had already read two that day and couldn't wait to get my hands on another. I was searching through the shelves when I came across a book that didn't seem like it belonged…

"Why won't Rebecca answer me?" I heard Erik ask, his voice sounding frantic.

"I'm okay," I managed to get out before Erik wrapped his arms around me and held me so tight that I thought he'd never let go.

When he finally did release me, he and everyone else in the room wanted to know what had happened, and why I hadn't answered when they had called my name. I shushed them all and shook my head to clear it of all unnecessary thoughts.

"I'm not even sure what happened, myself," I said in reply to their questions. "But what I do know is this: I've seen that before."

"You mean…?" Erik let the question go unfinished, and he raised his eyebrows at me.

I nodded. I had already told him everything since I had first found the manuscript in my school library in the twenty-first century.

The only question left was, how was the manuscript going to end up in the twenty-first century, and in my school library during my senior year in high school? I shook my head. It was too many puzzles for one day. I needed a rest, and so did everyone else, so we all went home to Henri's to get something to eat and to get some rest. Except, of course, for Gabriella, who stayed in the library.

**A/N: There's the next chapter. NOW there's only three left… I added one for good measure. It's kind of like a prologue, but not really, because to have a prologue, I think you need a prelude.**


	18. One More Puzzle

A Way Home

Chapter 18 – One More Puzzle

"Lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you/ Caught up in circles, confusion is nothing new/ Flashback, warm nights...almost left behind/ Suitcase of memories...time after/ Sometimes you picture me, I'm walking too far ahead/ You're calling to me; I can't hear what you've said/ Then you say, "Go slow" I fall behind/ The second hand unwinds.../ If you're lost, you can look and you will find me/ Time after time/ If you fall I will catch you, I'll be waiting/ Time after time/ After my picture fades and darkness has turned to gray/ Watching through windows, you're wondering if I'm ok/ Secrets stolen from deep inside/ The drum beats out of time..."

_- Time After Time, Spoken_

-

After taking Erik aside and explaining to him the instructions that AM2 had given me before he had died, we both decided that I would follow them alone. Well, actually, I decided, and Erik grudgingly agreed because I threatened not to touch him for a whole month. He and I both knew that if someone from the Opera Populaire saw him, they'd freak, and then the police might show up.

However, we also decided to wait until the next day, as that day had been very tiring, and it was already very late. Everything was moving so fast that we decided to wait a little.

As I lay in bed with Erik beside me, waiting for morning to come, I thought back to what AM2 had said about the instructions. After giving them to me, he had said, _"It's something that could alter everything that has happened since you found the manuscript."_ As I thought about this, I wondered if I even wanted to change what had happened. If I did, then I wouldn't exist in this time and space, and neither would Charity and Dominique. I couldn't imagine life without my two beautiful girls and my wonderful husband beside me. Such a thing was too difficult to comprehend.

I hadn't actually told Erik about the things that AM2 had said after he had given me the instructions. I didn't want Erik to freak out… I wanted to see what it was for myself. I had in inkling about what it might be, but I didn't want to say anything until I knew for sure. I didn't want Erik to doubt me.

Once again, I couldn't sleep. But this time, I didn't get up and go to the window. Instead, I stayed in bed with my eyes closed, but not really sleeping, trying in vain to overcome my bout of insomnia by thinking about something else. But no matter what I tried to do to get my mind and body to calm down, nothing worked. So I finally gave up and went downstairs to the living room. Perhaps a change of scenery would help.

I tied my robe tighter around my waist and sat down on the couch. I leaned back and closed my eyes, trying to think of something else. Suddenly, the day's events seemed to overwhelm me, and my limbs felt so weak that I instantly fell asleep.

-

The next day, after waking late in the morning, I began to get ready for the trip. There was only one last puzzle to be solved, and then we could put this whole thing behind us. There would no longer be police coming up and knocking at our door early in the morning, or late in the evening, with reports of a masked man about Erik's height murdering people left, right, and center. It was a relief to finally be putting all that behind me.

"Can't I come along?" Erik asked as I tied the bow at the back of my green dress. He sounded like a little child who was begging his mother to go with her on a shopping trip.

I smiled briefly and shook my head. "No," I replied. "We've been over this, already. It's too dangerous for you to come. It could cause some misunderstandings that we don't want."

"At least let Philippe come with you," he insisted. "Just in case it's a trap."

I knew that if it was a trap, two people would never be a match for however many were supposedly lying in wait for us. Nevertheless, I agreed. "Fine," I said. "But I do all the talking.

Erik nodded and left to go ask Philippe if he was willing to go with me.

-

I sighed for the umpteenth time that day. So far, the owner of the Opera Populaire had refused to see me, let alone speak to me, and it was driving me crazy. He probably knew about my connection to Erik, and was therefore concerned that the Phantom of the Opera might return, looking for his next victim. But I didn't want to wait any longer. I had no idea when Danton would close his shop, and I wanted to get there as soon as possible.

I swore again, in English so no one would know what I was saying, and I slammed my fist onto the railing of the stone steps. I didn't the railing very hard, but I was sure that I had bruised something because my hand started to hurt like hell immediately afterwards.

"Are you sure you don't want me to help?" Philippe asked after the fourth time of getting turned down.

"Fine," I said, thinking that there was no way he could do worse than me.

Philippe went over to the guard and spoke to him in a low voice. From what I gathered, it sounded as though they were just making small talk. After a few minutes, the guard let Philippe pass, leaving me to wait outside the building.

Ten minutes later, he returned, waving a small piece of paper triumphantly in the air. "I got it," he said, coming towards me.

"What is it?" I asked, snatching the paper from his fingers, almost tearing it.

"The directions to Danton le tailleur's place," he replied. "What else?"

I sighed again and read the directions carefully. They were pretty straightforward. I put the piece of paper in my pocket, and then started walking, with Philippe close behind.

-

We reached the shop just before about five o'clock in the afternoon. The shopkeeper was just locking up.

"S'il vous plaît," I began, knocking on the glass window set into the doorframe. "S'il vouse plaît, ouvrez le porte! Je besoin a parler avec M. Danton!" I knocked on the door again. "S'il vous plaît!"

I cursed again in English when the shopkeeper ignored me.

"May I?" Philippe asked, gesturing to the door.

"By all means," I replied, and let him pass.

He knocked on the door and said something in French that I couldn't catch. A few minutes later, the door was unlocked and Philippe was let in.

But this time, I refused to be left by myself, and I pushed past the shopkeeper before he had time to blink. "I am coming, too," I declared. "I am the one who has business with M. Danton, anyway."

Philippe said something to him in French so fast that I didn't quite catch it. I then realised how it felt to be older, and have all the young people talking so fast that you couldn't catch what they were saying.

Whatever Philippe had said, though, it seemed to calm the shopkeeper, and he led us to a set of stairs that wound to the second story of the building.

"M. Danton is a very busy man," the shopkeeper began. "I seriously doubt that he will enjoy having uninvited guests at this hour."

I swallowed, but kept up the appearance of calmness that I was trying to go for. I needed to get whatever it was that AM2 wanted me to have, and then go.

The shopkeeper led us into a small room that was at the top of the stairs. It had a bed in it, a table, two chairs, and small boudoir for clothes, as well as a dressing table with a mirror. Sitting at the table, looking over some papers with his glasses (they called them spectacles) sitting low on his nose was obviously M. Danton.

M. Danton was an impressive man with a handsome mustache and black hair that was obviously natural. I have always found it easy to tell when a man dyes his hair (like Erik does. He doesn't like the gray that his hair always has in it, so every now and then he dyes it), and I could tell that M. Danton did not. When he stood, the impressiveness ended there, because M. Danton was amusingly short.

A few minutes later, I learned, that wasn't the only thing that was amusing about him.

"Who are these people, Gaston?" M. Danton's voice was unusually high for a man, and it made him seem like a clown. I covered my mouth to hide my smile, and then I had to cough when he continued speaking because I didn't want to start laughing right in front of the man.

"Um," I began, "M. Danton, I am Rebecca, and this is Philippe. We are here because, well, uh…" I really felt uncomfortable saying what AM2 told me to say, but I had to do it. "We're here because Eric sent us," I said finally, feeling extremely uncomfortable with the name. It was because of the fact that AM2 had used it to try and get Erik away from me and the girls, and because that was not a kind thing to do. "He said you had a, erm, item for us?" I queried, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Hm," M. Danton mused, tapping his chin with his fingernail. "Yes, I believe I know what you mean." He turned to his shopkeeper. "Gaston, you may go. I shall call for you when our guests are ready to leave."

Gaston nodded, and, as he turned to the doorway, I saw his smile. So, I wasn't the only one who found M. Danton's voice amusing. I thought back to what the shopkeeper had said, and I realised that he had been making a joke when he had said that M. Danton wouldn't be happy about having visitors. It was next to impossible to imagine this man being angry.

As soon as Gaston had left, M. Danton sat back down at the table and stuck his fingers underneath it. A drawer popped out and my eyebrows went up in surprise. It was something I might have expected of someone other than M. Danton. Reaching a finger from his left hand into the drawer, M. Danton hooked his fingernail into a small crevice. It was hard to tell, but I saw him raise his fingernail slightly, lifting a thin sliver of wood to reveal a second hidden compartment. Once this one had been revealed, he stuck his unusually small hand deep inside the crevice and pulled out what he had been looking for.

As the light seeping through the one window caught the metal, I gasped at what it was: It was a time belt, as I had started calling them. It was exactly what I had thought it would be, and it still amazed me. This one, however, looked as though it had been given an upgrade of some sort. It still looked the same, but the covering it had made it seem almost lightweight, as though it was only made of fabric. But I could tell that it was metal underneath because of the sheen it gave off beside the buttons.

"This is what he was talking about, non?" M. Danton asked, holding it out.

Dumbly, I nodded, and I took the belt.

"What is it?" Philippe asked me.

"Let me give you a hint," I replied. "It can fix everything."

He gave me a confused expression. "Huh?" He asked, completely baffled.

"Nevermind." I shook my head. "I'll explain later."

I finally understood what AM2 had meant. I had suspected it already, but now I knew for sure how he had gotten here. And I knew what he had meant when he said it could change everything. He wanted a second chance, the second chance that he hadn't gotten because he had been hung for his crimes.

But I had another idea.

**A/N: There's the next chapter. Two more chapters left, and then the series will be complete. Review, please, and let me know what you think! No flames, please.**


	19. The End

A Way Home

Chapter 19 – The End

"You're not alone/ Together we stand/ I'll be by your side/ You know I'll take your hand/ When it gets cold/ and it feels like the end/ there's no place to go/ you know I won't give in/ No, I won't give in/ Keep holding on/ 'cause you know I'll make it through/ I'll make it through/ Just stay strong/ 'cause you know I'm here for you/ I'm here for you/ There's nothing you can say/ nothing you can do/ There's no other way when it comes to the truth/ So keep holding on/ 'cause you know I'll make it through/ I'll make it through/ So far away/ I wish you were here/ Before it's too late/ this could all disappear/ Before the doors close/ and it comes to an end/ with you by my side I will fight and defend/ I'll fight and defend."

_-Keep Holding On, Avril Lavigne_

-

I hugged Erik, Charity, and Dominique, and then waved goodbye. I had spent the past four days with Gabriella, fashioning the proper clothes that I would need for the trip. I wore medium brown pants that went down to my knees, a pair of black boots that women in the nineteenth century would most likely use for riding horses, or when they went on a trip, and a plain white T-shirt. Everyone else called it a tunic, but in the 21st century, it was called a T-shirt, and we all knew it.

I waved one last goodbye as my family faded out of sight, and I faded into sight. When I finally appeared in the 21st century, with the help of AM2's time belt, I knew exactly what year I was in: It was the summer of 2006, and I was in France, at the same time that I was in Canada. I went up to the closest woman and asked her what the day of the month it was. I was fairly sure that it was June, but I wasn't positive, so I needed to ask someone.

The woman verified my suspicions, and told me that it was June 8th. Perfect. It was the day before I found the manuscript. That would give me time to find a ticket home to Canada. I knew that I couldn't phone my mom. I also knew that I couldn't phone Joey or David, even though the Council had given me a number to call them at.

So I decided to do the only thing I could: Beg for passage. And when that failed, I would sneak aboard. Either way, I would find a way to get to Canada.

I headed for the nearest alley, and then covered myself in dirt. Pity was the best way to beg passage. I should probably have gone to Canada back when I was in the nineteenth century, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

I traveled to the nearest airport and searched the tarmac for a private plane. It would have to be one that would be heading for Canada, and also one that would carry a compartment where I could hide. I needed to be able to get there within the day, so a private plane would be the fastest thing.

I went up to the first person who didn't look like a pilot, and spoke to him in French.

"S'il vous plait," I began, but the man cut me off.

"I have no idea what you're saying," he said in English, "so don't bother talking to me. And if you can't understand me, then tough luck." He turned away.

"Actually, I can understand you perfectly," I replied. "I was wondering if I could ask for passage to Canada. That is, if that is where you are going." I smiled, and took a handkerchief from my pants pocket and wiped my face, which I had covered in dirt to make myself look threadbare, although my clothes I had been unwilling to soil with dirt.

The man turned back around to face me and raised an eyebrow as I smiled at him with somewhat white teeth. "Who are you?" He asked, his eyes getting wider as he took in my confidence, my not-so-skinny figure, and my youth. "What are you, a Muslim or something?" He asked.

"Okay, first of all," I said, "It's not polite to insult any culture, so shut your pie hole about all of that. Second of all, no I am not Muslim, and I don't even want to know what gave you that idea. Thirdly, I need a ride to Canada, more specifically, Toronto, Ontario."

"You're in luck," he said, smiling. Apparently, my attitude seemed to have amused him. "That's where I'm headed."

"Mind if I tag along?" I asked, making sure that my wedding ring, which was back on my finger, was showing clearly.

"Go ahead," he said.

-

When I finally reached home, I was relieved to see my old home. But I had to make sure that no one saw me there. I headed straight for my old school, and went in like there was nothing wrong with me being there.

Some of the kids there gave me funny looks, as though they half recognized me.

I passed myself as the younger version of me was sitting in her/my favorite spot, reading a book. I had never seen myself from this angle, and I realized that I wasn't actually as ugly as I had thought. It was like looking at myself in a photo, except this was real life.

I tilted my head the other way, making sure that the manuscript was tucked securely in my shoulder pack, which I had labored over with Gabriella for several days.

When I reached the right shelf, I pulled it out, looked around, and set it on the shelf. Then I hid a few shelves down.

I had to wait about twenty minutes, lingering and loitering two shelves down. Then I saw mini me get up and take her/my stuff and return the book she/I had been reading. She began to search the shelves for another book, and for a moment, I saw it through her eyes, from my memories.

She found the manuscript. Yes! Score! Mission accomplished.

I pulled out my belt and reviewed the combination. I couldn't risk going back the way I had come, because, for one, I had no way of getting back to France in this century. Which was why I had saved the best part of this new, shiny and better belt for this moment.

I pressed a few buttons and the covering slipped away, out of sight. A second keypad appeared. This one directed a location. So, I located myself to appear in Paris, France. Then I covered the belt back up, and I punched in the time.

As I faded from sight, I saw my small self pull out a sweater and put it on. I smiled. That younger version of myself had no idea where the manuscript would lead her, but she and I both knew that it was something special.

-

As I reappeared in the right time, I realized where I was, and I whooped for joy. I was back where I had started, with Erik, Charity, Dominique, Henri and Philippe were there, and they all smiled at me.

"So, it was successful?" Erik asked.

I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him. "Mission accomplished, Captain," I said, and smiled.

"Ew!" Dominique exclaimed. "Go do that somewhere else."

I smiled at her, and knew in my heart that, no matter what happened to us, I would always be there. No one in my family would ever be alone.

"Keep Holding on," I said.

"Huh?" Dominique asked, looking confused.

I smiled. "I love you," I told her, and hugged her. Then I gathered Charity into the hug. "I love you both." I smiled up at Erik. "I love you all.

And we lived happily ever after.

**A/N: There it is! The last chapter. I know that I said there would be 2 more chapters, but I was able to squeeze the two of them together. It saves time, and I thought that this was better anyways. Review, please, and let me know what you think!**


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